You are tired,
Of the always puzzle of living and doing;
And so am I.
Come with me, then,
And we’ll leave it far and far away—
(Only you and I, understand!)
You have played,
And broke the toys you were fondest of,
And are a little tired now;
Tired of things that break, and—
So am I.
But I come with a dream in my eyes tonight,
And knock with a rose at the hopeless gate of your heart—
Open to me!
For I will show you the places Nobody knows,
And, if you like,
The perfect places of Sleep.
Ah, come with me!
I’ll blow you that wonderful bubble, the moon,
That floats forever and a day;
I’ll sing you the jacinth song
Of the probable stars;
I will attempt the unstartled steppes of dream,
Until I find the Only Flower,
Which shall keep (I think) your little heart
While the moon comes out of the sea.
ps i can't sleep - can you tell?
Wednesday, December 30, 2009
Tuesday, December 29, 2009
If I like you that means (at least one of these things) you are disinterested, I am scared to admit I like you so I am not going to call you back, I will write about the possibility of us everywhere, I will email my best friend about your voice, you are not single, you don’t know my name, I really have to know what your favorite sort of music is, I like to eat green apples and think of you, I didn’t mean to become your best friend but now I don’t know how to tell you I think I am in love with you, you are not my type but I like your t-shirt (and your eyelashes), I am an idiot, you are beautiful, I really want to call you, I didn’t see you today so I am going to yell at everyone, you are miles away, I am desperate, you don’t even know me, I want to get drunk with you, let’s sleep under the sky together, I wonder if you would ever like to wake up next to me, I want you for my birthday.” - Mehmet Erdogan
Tuesday, December 22, 2009
I don't know where you're from but here in Australia Sharon isn't really a name we associate with anything remotely awesome - unless you're really into irony. Sharon or Shazza as we like to refer to everyone of the aforementioned name is known only as badge of bogan suburban pride.
Anyway. Sharon van Etten has managed to successfully reclaim the name in my Aussie little mind. As lazy a comparison as it is she reminds me of old school lo-fi Cat Power and all the rest that goes along with her - Bonnie Prince, Smog, M Ward et al....She manages to hop-quick-jump over the yawn-fest-3-star pit that most girly singer-songwriters fall into and make something more beautiful and slightly more complex. Remember grower albums? AKA the musical land before before i-tunes/pods/phones. Oh and yeah she's from Bushwick but we're gonna pretend she's not.
PS Key tracks - um I totally have a new one everyday but Much More Than This is pretty amazing - so listen to that...a few times, but you should really buy the album (Because I Was in Love - on her website) because its one of those ones you'll probably keep and play a lot and stuff.
PPS Please know Sharon if you ever tour Australia we will refer to you affectionately as "Shazza" van Etten.
Also whats a post here without a youtube to match?
Saturday, December 12, 2009
"How did it happen that their lips came together? How does it happen that birds sing, that snow melts, that the rose unfolds, that the dawn whitens behind the stark shapes of trees on the quivering summit of the hill? A kiss, and all was said. - victor hugo
“At any rate, let us love for a while, for a year or so, you and me. That’s a form of divine drunkenness that we can all try. There are only diamonds in the whole world, diamonds and perhaps the shabby gift of disillusion.”
— f. scott fitzgerald
Thursday, December 10, 2009
That the life of man is but a dream, many a man has surmised heretofore; and I, too, am everywhere pursued by this feeling. When I consider the narrow limits within which our active and inquiring faculties are confined; when I see how all our energies are wasted in providing for mere necessities, which again have no further end than to prolong a wretched existence; and then that all our satisfaction concerning certain subjects of investigation ends in nothing better than a passive resignation, whilst we amuse ourselves painting our prison-walls with bright figures and brilliant landscapes,—when I consider all this, Wilhelm, I am silent. I examine my own being, and find there a world, but a world rather of imagination and dim desires, than of distinctness and living power. Then everything swims before my senses, and I smile and dream while pursuing my way through the world.
All learned professors and doctors are agreed that children do not comprehend the cause of their desires; but that the grown-up should wander about this earth like children, without knowing whence they come, or whither they go, influenced as little by fixed motives, but guided like them by biscuits, sugar-plums, and the rod,—this is what nobody is willing to acknowledge; and yet I think it is palpable.
I know what you will say in reply; for I am ready to admit that they are happiest, who, like children, amuse themselves with their playthings, dress and undress their dolls, and attentively watch the cupboard, where mamma has locked up her sweet things, and, when at last they get a delicious morsel, eat it greedily, and exclaim, "More!" These are certainly happy beings; but others also are objects of envy, who dignify their paltry employments, and sometimes even their passions, with pompous titles, representing them to mankind as gigantic achievements performed for their welfare and glory. But the man who humbly acknowledges the vanity of all this, who observes with what pleasure the thriving citizen converts his little garden into a paradise, and how patiently even the poor man pursues his weary way under his burden, and how all wish equally to behold the light of the sun a little longer,—yes, such a man is at peace, and creates his own world within himself; and he is also happy, because he is a man. And then, however limited his sphere, he still preserves in his bosom the sweet feeling of liberty, and knows that he can quit his prison whenever he likes.
You know of old my ways of settling anywhere, of selecting a little cottage in some cosy spot, and of putting up in it with every inconvenience. Here, too, I have discovered such a snug, comfortable place, which possesses peculiar charms for me.
About a league from the town is a place called Walheim. (The reader need not take the trouble to look for the place thus designated. We have found it necessary to change the names given in the original.) It is delightfully situated on the side of a hill; and, by proceeding along one of the footpaths which lead out of the village, you can have a view of the whole valley. A good old woman lives there, who keeps a small inn. She sells wine, beer, and coffee, and is cheerful and pleasant notwithstanding her age. The chief charm of this spot consists in two linden-trees, spreading their enormous branches over the little green before the church, which is entirely surrounded by peasants' cottages, barns, and homesteads. I have seldom seen a place so retired and peaceable; and there often have my table and chair brought out from the little inn, and drink my coffee there, and read my Homer. Accident brought me to the spot one fine afternoon, and I found it perfectly deserted. Everybody was in the fields except a little boy about four years of age, who was sitting on the ground, and held between his knees a child about six months old: he pressed it to his bosom with both arms, which thus formed a sort of arm-chair; and, notwithstanding the liveliness which sparkled in its black eyes, it remained perfectly still. The sight charmed me. I sat down upon a plough opposite, and sketched with great delight this little picture of brotherly tenderness. I added the neighbouring hedge, the barn-door, and some broken cart-wheels, just as they happened to lie; and I found in about an hour that I had made a very correct and interesting drawing, without putting in the slightest thing of my own. This confirmed me in my resolution of adhering, for the future, entirely to nature. She alone is inexhaustible, and capable of forming the greatest masters. Much may be alleged in favour of rules, as much may be likewise advanced in favour of the laws of society: an artist formed upon them will never produce anything absolutely bad or disgusting; as a man who observes the laws, and obeys decorum, can never be an absolutely intolerable neighbour, nor a decided villain: but yet, say what you will of rules, they destroy the genuine feeling of nature, as well as its true expression. Do not tell me "that this is too hard, that they only restrain and prune superfluous branches, etc." My good friend, I will illustrate this by an analogy. These things resemble love. A warmhearted youth becomes strongly attached to a maiden: he spends every hour of the day in her company, wears out his health, and lavishes his fortune, to afford continual proof that he is wholly devoted to her. Then comes a man of the world, a man of place and respectability, and addresses him thus: "My good young friend, love is natural; but you must love within bounds. Divide your time: devote a portion to business, and give the hours of recreation to your mistress. Calculate your fortune; and out of the superfluity you may make her a present, only not too often,—on her birthday, and such occasions." Pursuing this advice, he may become a useful member of society, and I should advise every prince to give him an appointment; but it is all up with his love, and with his genius if he be an artist. O my friend! why is it that the torrent of genius so seldom bursts forth, so seldom rolls in full-flowing stream, overwhelming your astounded soul? Because, on either side of this stream, cold and respectable persons have taken up their abodes, and, forsooth, their summer-houses and tulip-beds would suffer from the torrent; wherefore they dig trenches, and raise embankments betimes, in order to avert the impending danger
Sunday, December 6, 2009
John Lennon is my favourite Beatle - Oh Yoko, Women is the Nigger of the World, Ballad of John and Yoko etc. Nowhere Boy (2009)a possibly terrible biopic - as they often are -that i will see ASAP anyway
Thom Andersen's film-essay masterpiece Los Angeles Plays Itself (2003)
Los Angeles more than any other city is defined by the movies made there.
In other news I want to live in the Bradbury building. Dream house found.
Friday, November 27, 2009
Saturday, November 21, 2009
- and it was called 'Waitin' Around to Die'
Excerpt from 'Heartworn Highways' - need to see this film really badly - times like this its tough living in Australia where nothing like this is easy to find. Also looking for a copy of Be Here to Love Me (Townes Van Zandt doco) and Fallen Angel (Gram Parsons doco) if anyone has the country doco hook ups?
Thursday, November 12, 2009
as if I’d opened it a thousand times
to see if what I’d written here was right,
it’s all because I looked too long for you
to put in your pocket. Midnight says
the little gifts of loneliness come wrapped
by nervous fingers. What I wanted this
to say was that I want to be so close
that when you find it, it is warm from me.
— Ted Kooser
Wednesday, November 11, 2009
An icon is someone who floats above the culture. Consider Orson Welles, the subject of my upcoming film Me and Orson Welles, and an icon if there ever was one. He was a larger-than-life personality and immense talent who has come to mean a great deal to many people. But the more you study his life, the more unknowable he becomes. He was a notoriously unreliable narrator. He never distinguished between fact and fiction. Everything — from Shakespeare to his own personal history — was open to reinterpretation.
Even though most of us know Orson Welles by name, or at least by Citizen Kane, none of us really knows him. When you’re an icon, you’re not just a person—you’re a myth. Perhaps that’s good for a certain kind of ego, but it’s not good for an artist. People think they have you figured out. Being an icon can be a curse.
And yet, the supremely talented have a way of upending expectations. Truly creative people are never fixed, they’re never simple, they’re always works in progress, they’re always moving. The late Paul Newman, for example, filled his career with iconic performances. In the hands of a lesser actor, they might not have been memorable at all. Every time we thought we had him pegged, he would do something different.
When thinking about the definition of an icon—which, like “genius,” is a word I don’t use lightly—I always look to the elders. Bob Dylan is a living icon. Martin Scorsese and Woody Allen are living icons. Kurt Cobain was all the rage during the last three or four years of his life, but icon status, because of his youth, probably wasn’t official until after he died. Icons have bodies of work that stand up over time, and are always changing—as are our relationships to them.
I think about my feelings toward Welles over the years. At some points in my life, I thought he was a hero. At others, I focused on the flaws in his personality. Trying to make a movie about him has made me reconsider my position yet again. I only have understanding, love and forgiveness for him now, even though people keep trying to convince me he was a badly behaved enfant terrible.
Today, you can click a button and watch all three of James Dean’s movies. You can see all of Marilyn Monroe’s films whenever you want. We’ll be able to listen to Michael Jackson and watch him dance forever. The performances, rich to begin with, have become even more layered and infused with various meanings, because we bring so much knowledge to watching them.
- Richard Linklater
(via black book mag)
Monday, November 9, 2009
I have only two charms in my pocket
an old Roman coin Mike Kanemitsu gave me
and a bolt-head that broke off a packing case
when I was in Madrid the others never
brought me too much luck though they did
help keep me in New York against coercion
but now I'm happy for a time and interested
I walk through the luminous humidity
passing the House of Seagram with its wet
and its loungers and the construction to
the left that closed the sidewalk if
I ever get to be a construction worker
I'd like to have a silver hat please
and get to Moriarty's where I wait for
LeRoi and hear who wants to be a mover and
shaker the last five years my batting average
is .016 that's that, and LeRoi comes in
and tells me Miles Davis was clubbed 12
times last night outside BIRDLAND by a cop
a lady asks us for a nickel for a terrible
disease but we don't give her one we
don't like terrible diseases, then
we go eat some fish and some ale it's
cool but crowded we don't like Lionel Trilling
we decide, we like Don Allen we don't like
Henry James so much we like Herman Melville
we don't want to be in the poets' walk in
San Francisco even we just want to be rich
and walk on girders in our silver hats
I wonder if one person out of the 8,000,000 is
thinking of me as I shake hands with LeRoi
and buy a strap for my wristwatch and go
back to work happy at the thought possibly so
- Frank O'Hara
Monday, November 2, 2009
Saturday, October 31, 2009
if friends are rarer than genius which is rarer than love - genius friends must be rarer than all that
my friend Ana who's a bit of a genius when it comes to all things film (among other things) found this video/song by Isabella Adjani - "It is her first album under the direction of: Serge Gainsbourg, of course. My feeling is that there is touch of serge in the video too."
my other genius friend hugh introduced me to this man - Dwight Twilley (he claims to be the direct source of all things Twilley that henceforth flowed into the Melbourne music community - which is probably fair enough). its pretty good and something worth taking credit for too actually.
Thursday, October 29, 2009
I made another mix tape this one is a covers mix. I'm a sucker for covers.
The covers are all a bit sombre (which seems to be a 'thing' for covers) but all good - true. Anyway I called it Maudlin Pleasures (thanks Crayon Fields for inspiring me!). NB - Its hard to make a mixtape of somewhat sombre songs (however excellent you think them to be) without turning into or coming across as a big mopey-sad-sack - kinda of like making an R&B mixtape for a guy without seeming like you're aurally hitting on them 20 times every 3 minutes.
Anyhow here's the tracklist -
- Marie (Randy Newman cover) - Allison Moorer
- Little Lies (Fleetwood Mac cover) - Anna Ternheim
- Walk a Thing Line (Fleetwood Mac cover) - Atlas Sound
- I Fought the Law (Clash cover) - Bell X1
- The Breeze/My Baby Cries (Kath Bloom cover) - Bill Callahan
- I Want You (Bob Dylan cover) - Bruce Springsteen
- She Wolf (Shakira cover) - Chester French
- Plainest Thing (Tift Merritt cover) - Chris Stamley Experience
- Hyperballad (Bjork cover) - Dirty Projectors
- Jesus Was a Crossmaker (Judee Sill cover) - Frida Hyvonen
- So Bored (Wavves cover) - His Clancyness
- Box Elder (Pavement cover) - Pet Ghost Project
- My Boys (Animal Collective cover) - Taken By Trees
- Heaven (Talking Heads cover) - Voxtrot
- Just Like Heaven (The Cure cover) - The Watson Twins
- Hot Like Fire (Aaliyah cover) - The xx
Monday, October 26, 2009
Tuesday, October 20, 2009
Have You Ever Had a Witch Bloom like a Highway
Have you ever had a witch bloom like a highway
on your mouth? and turn your breathing to her
fancy? like a little car with blue headlights
passing forever in a dream?
There is so much lost
and so much gained in
Love’s Not the Way to Treat a Friend
Love’s not the way to treat a friend.
I wouldn’t wish that on you. I don’t
want to see your eyes forgotten
on a rainy day, lost in the endless purse
of those who can remember nothing.
Love’s not the way to treat a friend.
I don’t want to see you end up that way
with your body being poured like wounded
marble into the architecture of those who make
bridges out of crippled birds.
Love’s not the way to treat a friend.
There are so many better things for you
than to see your feelings sold
as magic lanterns to somebody whose body
casts no light
She tries to get things out of men
that she can’t get because she’s not
For Gary Snyder
There is a motorcycle
in New Mexico.
In Her Sweetness Where She Folds My Wounds
In her sweetness where she folds my wounds
there is a flower that bees cannot afford.
It is too rich for them and would change
their wings into operas and all their honey
into the lonesome maps of a nonexistent
When she has finished folding all my wounds
she puts them away in a dresser where the
drawers smell like the ghost of a bicycle.
Afterwards I rage at her: demanding that her
affections always be constant to my questions.
Melting Ice Cream at the Edge of Your Final Thought
Oh well, call it a
Up against the Ivory Tower
I’m sitting here (at a cafe) thinking
about writing a poem. What will I write
about? I don’t know. I just feel like it
when suddenly a young man in a hurry
walks up to me and says, “Can I use your
There’s an envelope in his hand. “I want
to address this.” He takes my pen
and addresses the envelope. He’s very serious
about it. He’s really using the
pen.All from Rommel Drives On Deep Into Egypt,
We knew the pain of winter wind rushing up your skirt, and the ache of keeping your knees together in class, and how drab and infuriating it was to jump rope while the boys played baseball. We could never understand why the girls cared so much about being mature, or why they felt compelled to compliment each other, but sometimes, after one of us had read a long portion of the diary out loud, we had to fight back the urge to hug one another or to tell each other how pretty we were. We felt the imprisonment of being a girl, the way it made your mind active and dreamy, and how you ended up knowing which colors went together. We knew that girls were our twins, that we all existed in space like animals with identical skins, and that they knew everything about us though we couldn’t fathom them at all. We knew, finally, that the girls were really women in disguise, that they understood love and even death, and that our job was merely to create the noise that seemed to fascinate them.
— The Virgin Suicides by Jeffrey Eugenides
Theres nothing more girly than unicorns, cupcakes, pink and Virgin Suicides.
Thursday, October 15, 2009
“I was about half in love with her by the time we sat down. That's the thing about girls. Every time they do something pretty... you fall half in love
I saw this last night and am obsessed with the screen tests at the moment. 13 was definitely not enough - i would be easy to sit for hours and watch them and hear all the history behind them. I don't think its cool to be fascinated by Warhol and co. now that Factory Girl's been and gone but oh well.
My favourites were Susan Bottomly, Dennis Hopper and especially Freddy Herko.
Dean (of Dean and Britta) told the story of Freddy's death before they played it - so sad. Freddy was a dancer who took too much speed - got kicked out of his house and then -
"Johnny Dodd had also come across Freddy on the 27th. Dodd had seen him at Joe's Dinette on Jones Street in Greenwich Village. According to Dodd, "Freddy was covered with filth, and he was dancing on the counter... He said he hadn't had any drugs for three days, but he was whacked out and his body was quivering."
Dodd took Freddy back to Dodd's apartment on Cornelia Street and Herko poured a bottle of Johnny's perfume into the bath and took a long bubble bath. Dodd knew that Freddy was a Mozart freak so he put the Coronation Mass on the phonograph. Finished with his bath, Freddy danced naked around the living room, occasionally making a run toward the windows. At the time Dodd wondered whether this was going to be the "suicide performance" that Herko had been promising his friends during the weeks prior - "it was obvious that Freddy had to do it now: the time and the place were right, the decor was right, the music was right."
Herko made another long run and leaped out the window. Dodd later told Diane di Prima that he saw Freddy miraculously flying up through the air before his descent to the pavement. At the time of his death Herko was twenty nine years old. He had broken both ankles, his hip, both sides of his pelvis and both of his wrists.
Tuesday, October 13, 2009
Wednesday, September 30, 2009
Its weird when you come stumble across something online and then suddenly its like you see it everywhere.
For some reason indie director/video artist M. Blash's trailer for his debut Lying back in '06 made its way onto apple.com/trailers. I've never seen it (reminder I live in Australia the land of the unreleased film) - but Malone/Sevs x oddly named director probably equals epic poser fest....but I'd still like to see it.
Anyway The Playlist recently posted two recent Levi's ad's (one by M. Blash obvs) and the other by another indie director du jour (Cary Fukunaga's - dir. Sin Nombre) - pop culture tie ins include - Final Fantasy, Walt Whitman and Ryan McGinley. I never know whether to be disgusted or intrigued by these kind of ads - as they are quite beautiful ads especially Fukunaga's (the aesthetic is weird reminiscent of Sin Nombre).
(via The Playlist)
"Moi, je crois qu'on est toujours responsable de ce qu'on fait... Et libre...
Je lève la main, je suis responsable. Je tourne la tête à droite, je suis responsable. Je malheureuse, je suis responsable. Je fume une cigarette, je suis responsable. Je ferme les yeux, je suis responsable.
J'oublie que je suis responsable, mais je le suis... Après tout, tout est beau...
Après tout, les choses sont comme elles sont... Et la vie, c'est la vie." - Vivre Sa Vie (Jean Luc Godard)
I couldn't find a youtube of that scene - but that one, the one above and this one - are my 3 favourite scenes of my FAVOURITE Godard movie. He is amazing you should see all his films....except some of the later weird ones - they are too esoteric to endure.
Monday, September 21, 2009
This is probably the saddest song about parties I've ever heard. I kind of like sad songs about generally happy subject matter. Personally I know my iPod swings from tracks like EPDM's Party to this (more socially acceptable "party anthems"). I kind of imagine artists whose music is mostly sombre and plaintive (such as EPDM) will be downers in the real world but...could someone this pretty actually have such a sad existence?
But it could only be because her real last name is Assbring - I wonder if that is as funny to 5 yr olds in Sweden as it would be in Melbourne? I guess we'll find out when she comes to Australia next week
Saturday, September 19, 2009
Thursday, September 17, 2009
Trash Humpers new Harmony Korine trailer....screening at TIFF aka not anywhere in Australia atm - ahem all Aussie distributors....
In other news peep Mrs Korine in all her glory here (cameos by Mrs Samberg)
Wednesday, September 16, 2009
Um, so to be clear - I don't like going to the beach or surfing or anything like that - but I like this band and most other bands that sound like they grew up stoned on the West Coast at the moment - call it East Coast backlash (disclaimer: The Drums are actually from BK - lets be real we all know L.A. sucks....my brain hurts).
When she says quixotic she means mercurial.
And when she says, "I'll never speak to you again,"
she means, "Put your arms around me from behind
as I stand disconsolate at the window."
He's supposed to know that.
When a man loves a woman he is in New York and she is in Virginia
or he is in Boston, writing, and she is in New York, reading,
or she is wearing a sweater and sunglasses in Balboa Park and he
is raking leaves in Ithaca
or he is driving to East Hampton and she is standing disconsolate
at the window overlooking the bay
where a regatta of many-colored sails is going on
while he is stuck in traffic on the Long Island Expressway.
When a woman loves a man it is one-ten in the morning,
she is asleep he is watching the ball scores and eating pretzels
and two hours later he wakes up and staggers into bed
where she remains asleep and very warm.
When she says tomorrow she means in three or four weeks.
When she says, "We're talking about me now,"
he stops talking. Her best friend comes over and says,
"Did somebody die?"
When a woman loves a man, they have gone
to swim naked in the stream
on a glorious July day
with the sound of the waterfall like a chuckle
of water ruching over smooth rocks,
and there is nothing alien in the universe.
Ripe apples fall about them.
What else can they do but eat?
When he says, "Ours is a transitional era."
"That's very original of you," she replies,
dry as the Martini he is sipping.
They fight all the time
What do I owe you?
Let's start with an apology
Ok, I'm sorry, you dickhead.
A sign is held up saying "Laughter."
It's a silent picture.
"I've been fucked without a kiss," she says,
"and you can quote me on that,"
which sounds great in an English accent.
One year they broke up seven times and threatened to do it
another nine times.
When a woman loves a man, she wants him to meet her at the
airport in a foreign country with a jeep.
When a man loves a woman he's there. He doesn't complain that
she's two hours late
and there's nothing in the refrigerator.
When a woman loves a man, she wants to stay awake.
She's like a child crying
at nightfall because she didn't want the day to end.
When a man loves a woman, he watches her sleep, thinking:
as midnight to the moon is sleep to the beloved.
A thousand fireflies wink at him.
The frogs sound like the string section
of the orchestra warming up.
The stars dangle down like earrings the shape of grapes.
- David Lehman
Sunday, September 13, 2009
Big Pink - Dominos [mp3]
Sometimes really epic songs can be a bit embarrassing - like admitting you really liked MGMT when it first came out - no judgement. All I can say is I hate making predictions but I think this song by Big Pink will be huge and I'll probably be embarrassed to admit that I liked it when it first came out.
Thursday, September 10, 2009
Wednesday, September 9, 2009
Not that I give a hoot about jewelry. Diamonds, yes. But it's tacky to wear diamonds before you're forty
Just while I'm on this fashion tip - please note: I have issue with jewellery if it doesn't do anything. If I can't store coke in my ring - I ain't wearing it - 'jes kidding kids, y'know about the coke thing (who I am Sarah Michelle from Cruel Intentions?) - but serious about the function thing. It seems I'm not alone here - you may have noticed the watch necklace craze of '08 and the slightly less crazy monocle necklace trend of '09.
Well I'm here to predict '10 will be all about the compass necklace and why not see '09 out with a telescope necklace both from Digby and Iona (slightly better than the monocle - sorry Marc!).
This quote pretty much sums up why me and fashion don't mix. I can't walk in heels because I fall over. Mid-riff makes me slightly nauseous. I don't wear outrageous clothing because anything even slightly "out-there" seems to give absolute strangers the right to harass you. And so on...however I like the idea of fashion and the concept of the perfect outfit.
For me the perfect outfit is shoes that are cool but flat, midriff-resistant, not too "wacky" and hopefully comfortable, oh and cheap, but um, like fashionable...
Anyway Refinery 29 have this rad new section called Perfect Outfit - which shows people like me ways you can mix mod with latina steez. Like Polyvore but by experts.
Tuesday, September 8, 2009
Girls - are kind of brats. They called their album 'album' and their band Girls (they are both boys) - two facts which initially made me hate them outright. However after being completely and totally won over by 'Lust for Life' and the 'album' - I started to feel like it was actually just kind of genius - in a bratty way.
I guess you'll put up with all kinds of crap from people who write amazing songs that you play over and over again because they capture that amazing carefree-party-all-summer feeling for about 2 and a half minutes.
If Adam Scott aka "whattababe" (Stepbrothers, Eastbound and Down) isn't enough to make you wanna watch my new fave TV show Party Down, maybe the fact that Martin Scott (from Freaks and Geeks, other Apatow) also stars and it was co-created by Paul Rudd will help?
Wait - did I mention its my new favourite TV show?
I swear America keeps making good TV just to stop me from reading. Bastards.
PS Adam Scott also played a minor but significant role in the favourite movie of my teens Girl and thanks to the internets you can watch the whole thing here.
Saturday, September 5, 2009
If the worst thing in your life is someone makes you go to a dance - I'd say you got a pretty good life
One of my favourite scenes from Freaks and Geeks (and Virgin Suicides) - I found this on one of my fave mp3 blogs Pop Tarts Suck Toasted. They've listed a bunch of other amazing TV soundtrack moments including - My So Called Life - which I've blogged before.
Oh and my other fave MSCL moment here and FandG here - last one cliche but still amazing here.
(video via PTST)
Monday, August 31, 2009
"Don't Substitute a Life to Satisfy Mine"
Darren Sylvester takes photos of sad looking girls with junk food among other cute things - and he's just released an amazing album which you can listen to a few tracks here
How good is the cover art?
also peep a video here of him performing live
Friday, August 28, 2009
IN THE MAILBOX
throughout humid night.
onto shadow-hidden faces.
could the answer
discount wall panels
sign that says
perhaps one way?
can we go?
sitting on the sidewalk
what? no cigarettes clenched
headlights in the distance
oh, thoughtful america.
they threw lit
Someone described Joseph Szabo's work as photos of kids making out - it could equally be described as photo's of drunk teens. The best thing about this photo's is once again how they're black and white (ok I've already posted his pics back here-i know black and white is nothing new but I like it) and two that they are of real kids being as unselfconscious as anyone can be in front of a camera. You might also recognise his work from such albums as this
“In a way, it was sort of depressing, too, because you kept wondering what the hell would happen to all of them. When they got out of school and college, I mean. You figured most of them would probably marry dopey guys. Guys that always talk about how many miles they get to a gallon in their goddam cars. Guys that get sore and childish as hell if you beat them at golf, or even just some stupid game like ping-pong. Guys that are very mean. Guys that never read books. Guys that are very boring.”
— J.D. Salinger, The Catcher in the Rye
I've been having a bad case of the nostalgia's lately. Feathered haircuts and flares. Faded film, overexposure and Super-8. Its a good thing I have a blog to get it out of my system so I don't go around subjecting the GP to my weird penchant for sun-bleached hair, sitting on peoples cars and frisbees and shit.
Tuesday, August 25, 2009
Wednesday, August 19, 2009
mixtape for winter
1. Idiot Heart - Sunset Rubdown
2. My Unusual Friend - Fruit Bats
3. California on My Mind - Wild Light
4. Separate Ways - Crazy Dreams Band
5. Walkabout - Atlas Sound w/ Panda Bear
6. There Is No Light - Wildbirds and Peacedrums
7. Lover - Nite Jewel
8. My Boy Builds Coffins - Florence and The Machine
9. To Clean - Woods
10. You Told A Lie - Camera Obscura
11. California (All the Way) - Luna
12. Heroes - Twiggy Frostbite
13. Your Heart Belongs in Tennessee - The Young Republic
14. Kissing Like It's Love - The Voyces
15. Carby - Discovery w/ Ezra Koenig
16. Dragon De Glace - Malajube
17. You've Won Me Over - Jessica Lea Mayfield
Winters nearly over - might as well appreciate missing summer while you still can.
“Pale, nervous girls with black-rimmed glasses and blunt-cut hair lolled around on sofas, riffling Penguin Classics provocatively… But it wasn’t just intellectual experiences. They were peddling emotional ones, too. For fifty bucks, I learned, you could “relate without getting close.” For a hundred, a girl would lend you her Bartok records, have dinner, and then let you watch while she had an anxiety attack.” - Woody Allen
I think we all need to appreciate Woody Allen's forays into literature more than we have already - well I do anyway. You can read the whole story here. Also i can't wait for my new glasess