Paradise Stinks

Gits and effort

A quote from my former editor:

"The word 'darling' is great to soften a blow. I use it all the time to seem sweet when I'm saying something horrible."

Sure the word's great and I use it all the time too but never to intentionally sound like a pretentious git.

She also used to constantly tell me to use simpler sentences in my writing. My mind works in an around-about way, usually settling on the most convoluted way of stating things. But then, I've never thoroughly enjoyed something that's been easy to comprehend. Why discourage a reader to make any effort? I'd like to be worth some effort, someday.

Tom-cat

It seems every "cool" chick on the planet, whether she be a musician, actor, artist...or amazing psycho combination...started out as a tom-boy. Every interview I've read in magazines or on random blogs and even through introductory spiels on myspace and face-book, the cool chicks claim to have grown up playing soliders with the boys, rolling in mud, climbing trees and scraping their knees. 

Is this so the so called girl in question at the time of stating they used to be a tom boy projects an "I don't care if you throw me in mud or I get dirty, and I only take 5 minutes to get ready" carefree appeal? 

What's wrong with being the chick that grew up playing barbies or baking with her grandmother? So what if a girl only wore dresses with satin bows every weekend and took every care not to get them grubby? 

Bring back the little girl.

Mophead visits Hamleys and finds the perfect Book

Katie and Jack visit London. They start out at Trafalgar square and are taken sightseeing by their roaring guide.

My admission/Duck

I have an imaginary friend. It came about from a drawing that Michael Leunig did for me at a book signing. I wanted a picture of his duck. The duck that follows Leunig around in his cartoons. I’m not sure when or how, but I decided a couple of years after seeing this picture daily that I would have my own duck follow me around.

 About a month before I came to London I went on a Buddhist Dharma Gathering – a meditation retreat – with my mother. While on the retreat the idea came up that nothing actually exists – all that there is, is what you create via your senses. Kind of. That’s how I interpreted the theory anyway.  It made me think that there is really no difference between what is “real” and what is real in my mind.

We went on a walk through the bush/rainforest/scrub/beach…. And I was thinking of how sad it is that fairies don’t actually exist (it was fairytale like setting). Lightbulb. There’s no reason they can’t if the only thing that matters is that they exist in my mind.

Et Voila. My duck came to life.

As time went on, duck started developing personality quirks and clothing habits. He’s my own little Buddha following me around and supporting me in his own quiet way. Duck doesn’t speak much, but he has a certain way with expressions.

I once told someone upon my arrival in London that everyone should have their own imaginery friend. His response was that everyone would end up in an institution.

Duck obviously disagrees – because ever since, ducks in some form or other, have surprised me by popping up on unexpected occasions almost daily. I think he likes to let me know that they’re looking after me, whether I’m thinking about them or not. Every time I see one, I know I’m on the right track….

So if you see some random duck images pop up on this blog - you know why. 

 

He's just not that into you - the movie

In the very beginning, some variation on this is said:

“if a guy doesn’t return your call…etc…perhaps what we need to admit is:

HES JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU”

 

What I think we need to admit, and what I practically shouted at the screen instead of HES JUST NOT THAT INTO YOU was:

“WHY CARE?!”

 

P.S. Scarlett over Connolley

Dear Mum

After reminiscing over the morning skype session I thought of more to say.What have I been doing? Well. Today it snowed. Joe and I walked in the snow to get more movies out (we've been watching a lot); Betty Boop cartoons, Roger Rabbit, Pandora's Box, Gilda and Hotel Grande. Lots of classics.This week involves hibernating due to the cold, although I'm going to go and check out the levels of the Tate that we didn't make it to yesterday. I want to sit in front of the waterlilies for a while too. Hibernation may also involve cinema - Nick and Norahs Playlist came out last week, and a couple of others that I don't remember.Reading Buckowski at the moment - I just finished The beautiful and the damned by Fitzgerald and Bonjour Tristesse by Francoise Sagan . Next up is Bouvoir (if i can be bothered), Age of reason by Sartre and some Kerouac. The boys have a second hand book library in their kitchen that I'm going to raid slowly.Found a cute little dance outfit in a nearby antique shop that would make a great burlesque show. Something like this:

http://uk.youtube.com/watch?v=xW9fnEJR1Ek&feature=PlayList&p=81BF356BAF7A1B6D&playnext=1&index=8

So I'm planning on putting something together this week regarding that. 
Lots of Love 

Katie

Kate Meets Tate

First of all the Borough markets...

So THATS how they grow!

Bridget Jones' House. How do you rotate these photos?!

Endless trays of turkish delight. For mum:

My un-educatedly favourite pieces from the Tate modern:

Candy? Actually soap:

Turn head to left side: It's shoes going down a staircase. Pretty photos:

Hanging gold utensils. The amount of work that must have gone into this was incredible. And. It looks pretty. Also reminiscent of a particular abfab episode:

Fantasia:

It's a bit cliche, but I could sit in front of Monet's waterlilies for a whole day just to look at the colours. And I plan to. Maybe on Wednesday:

A barn!:

Stickies:

This was a video piece which involved women playing around in paint for art. 6o's and joyful looking. I love "influential celebration of flesh as material...an erotic right". The name was an added bonus:

First of all - apologies to those artists that haven't been attributed. I couldn't take photos sneakily enough. If I am breaking any copy-write laws, gently let me know.

Forgive me for the following favourites, the detail is probably only interesting to myself. But I've put it here anyway. 

Susan Hiller, psi girls (5 screen video projection) - "cultural association between female adolescence and altered states of consciousness." A connection being made between female adolescence and magic of some type appeals to me. The video also featured Neve Campbell. I like Neve.

Victer Grippo, tables of work and reflection:

Something to do with the cultural role that tables take on. I think tables are important. A nice desk. It's all I want.

Sophie Calle - The Hotel. This french writer/artist/installation artist/etc worked as a chambermaid in a hotel, took photos and stole a pair of shoes. There are pictures of the rooms with daily commentary as to how the room was left. There was one room in Venice in which the resident had written on scrap paper "cemetery - fantastic". I have to agree - A and I visited the cemetery in Paris and it was my favourite day of the trip.

Jenny Holzer, Inflammatory essays;

The whole wall was covered in colourful paper with short sentences of wisdom written upon them. Inspiring. The Tate says: 

"The Inflammatory Essays present a range of provocative statements which were inspired by the texts of political theorists, religious fanatics and impassioned 'folk' literature. Since childhood, Holzer has been interested in 'rapturous writing' and wanted to write 'ecstatic, fantastic things."

Yes.

And if you feel like a treasure hunt;

Andre Ketesz, Rooftops.

Koo Jeong A (glossy photos of ivy coloured houses)

Bill Brandt, Brighton

My not so favourites. Disturbing images ahead:

On Viennese Actionism, the Tate says:

"The Vienna Actionists were influenced by international developments in painting in the 1950s and by artists such as Jackson Pollock. Taking painting as their starting point, they extended their gestural, material and often violent outpourings beyond the canvas and into a range of highly provocative performances or bodily actions."

On Viennese Actionism, Kate says:

Images of mutilation and castration next to the red paint splattered canvas  was surprisingly extraordinarily disturbing. 

My least favourite at the Tate, but which has stayed in my mind nevertheless:

There was a film, involving a man which put 2 girls 1 cup to shame. Kermit would not be pleased (youtube kermit 2 girls. Do NOT youtube 2 girls 1 cup. DO NOT!  I mean it mum). 

Week 1,2 and half of 3. A summary

In depth experience of emotions have held me hostage from writing anything substantial. Blog posts, worthwhile emails, letters, postcards, job applications, etc.

It's even taken over my ability to take photos. Apologies to those awaiting stories.

Said in depth experience of emotions:

Week 1: The arrival. Love. Nerves. Also involved typical sightseeing.

Week 2: Further arrival, to flat of dirty three. Initial love of filth. Followed closely by despair of filth. Involved tears, fear, disorientation, cuddles. Also happiness: discovery of nearby antique markets, vintage stores, Portobello road, delicatessens, underground cabaret and studio for rent.

Week 3: Mophead's typical problem solving mission. Rental applications, discovery that said studio is above flower shop and has crimson door, bathtub and surrounding people being capable of using a bin.

Details? Ok

Jack and Joe bring home girls. Bedroom situation now involves sharing bed a'la Marilyn Munroe. Minus the ritzy apartment.

Joe got rimmed by said girl. Nothing's sacred on blogs. Not sure of what her name was. It's on the wall somewhere. 

Drunken nights out with Londoners - e.g. Graham. Included steak, wine, clove cigarettes, loud laughter.

Drunken nights in - with myself. One night, with a bottle of absenthe. Was good. Another night with cheap wine. Not so good. Involved countless messages to poppit, tantrum throwing and clothes left outside in rain.

Drunken nights kind of out/in - At spotted dick, cafe of A. Get fed and drunk by A's boss. Included his 40th birthday - involved cake, quiche, pussy galore, karaoke, innit and vomit.

Endless episodes of curb your enthusiasm.

More details? Got the flu. Put on weight. Joined library. Explored nearby village. Watched lots of old movies.

xx

Mophead aka. Jezebel.

Baby Otto

is welcomed to the world

Being his parent's son, he lives in a beautiful world of dreams: as of day 1 he snored, and according to nan, dreamt.

What could he be dreaming of?

That blonde haired cherub staring over his face - Daly

A warm soggy room close to this mother's heartbeat

Warm arms

Last Sunday in Sydney

I slept in my loft in the afternoon. After baking cookies. It was warm. Hot. Still. At 6pm. And light as if only mid afternoon. I could see over the rooftops from the loft windows over the balcony. From my bed. I read there until dinner time in the warmth. With breeze coming in through the window and a doona half thrown over me. Soft pillows. Such a lazy Sunday. So perfect.

Dad and I ordered nepalese and sat on the couch with the house doors open, watching spicks and specks. 

I saw a photo of Verity in London at the ferris wheel. It looked happy and not too gray. I had envy. But then, I was in my lounge eating curry, in the heat, watching spicks and specks. With the doors open.

Tom Waits

I don't know about you but I can't listen to any of the music popularly available at the moment. The Indie uprising has me backtracking through my parent-instilled love of old music that they played growing up. I'll listen to anything from The Beatles to Sade and Tom Waits in an hour. And I'd rather spend my afternoons listening to Johnny Cash than the Presets. The problem with this is; how are we going to musically influence our own children?  Have all the giants in musical production come and gone before us? Will we have nothing to showcase for our own generation (s)?

If someone throws me a band that doesn't sound like a bunch of kids crying behind their hands whilst screaming into a microphone and gyrating in order to look like the second coming of Ian Curtis, I will stop listening to Fleetwood Mac on repeat.

Ho ho ho

Merry Sale?

Cleo-esque

Scary stuff

Well, I've been reading over my old posts and I have to say it's fairly embarrassing.
Which is probably why I haven't touched this for so long.
But - given that I'm about to "embark on a new adventure" as my dad has been saying, I should probably start putting some words down again.

I'm off to London. Although anyone wasting their time reading this would probably know me, and therefore, that.
Anyway - I'm pretty f***ing excited. However, I'm having a thought:

I have to be honest here - I'm getting nervous about where I'll be living.
Don't get me wrong - I'm all for living in the dodgy end of town, where trannies and hookers hang out outside my boudoir and know my name. That doesn't scare me.
On the other hand, muggings and murders co-existing on my street oversteps a limit to the bohemian life I've always wanted to lead.

The issue here - everything I've ever been super-afraid of...has tended to happen to me.
Perhaps this shouldn't be looked at negatively - maybe I've subconsciously put myself in situations where I know my fears will be challenged. I guess that supposes a sort of bravery on my part.
Or stupidity.

I can't watch crime tv shows. They make me envisage my own self as a victim in various CSI Miami situations. Please don't let this be another fear that comes true.

But, if something worthy of a csi episode does occur - I can't complain about life so far. It's been pretty sweet.

Is this what my holidays are going to consist of?

I have just discovered that cornflakes with apricot jam accompany neverending seasons of gossip girl on youtube quite comfortably.
Not so much with my stomach.

Is this what I'm going to do all holidays? Procrastinate take home exams by watching countless hours of shit American TV?

Dont get me wrong - I have discovered something else today, an else which does not involve disgusting mixtures of breakfast foods. A new Tuesday tradition began this afternoon at the new Italian cafe in Kirribilli. Outside, in winter sun - coffee and salami baguette...and good living liftout, after a long walk around the harbour.

Finished it off with a sly sideways glance at flightcentre without giving away a too obvious look of longing in my face.

For H: Status obsession. Totally unhealthy. And I realise it.

is:

MH thinks your ass looks fat in those jeans


mean and immature?

Honestly pining.

What I did today:

Went for a walk around the rocks

Did uni readings in bed

Sat in the study and listened to old music


....

fuck. i should put that in a song.
maybe it would seem less pathetic in verse?

WIN WIN WIN!!!

And Todays award for rudest customer service goes to:
AIMEE FROM EZYDVD, RUNDLE MALL

Eat that A.

Welcome to your life

Acting on your best behaviour:
I saw the best Emily Valentine impersonation the other night. Perfect really. I want her to cut my hair.

Turn your back on mother nature:
(DONT!) 1 day until the election.

Everybody wants to rule the world:
As above

Its my own design:
Some boy came up to me the other night and said "I just want you to know that you're awesome"
Thats my line...just replace awesome with beautiful.
He had good hair.

Its my own remorse:
Can people track their myspace viewers? If they can, im in serious social shit.

I fell in love a few times this week
A boy without facial hair. im developing obviously. Although he was a musician, so perhaps not developing at fast enough rate.

blueberry tea me

Blueberry tea recipe:

in morning, microwave frozen blueberries in uncovered bowl for 1 minute.

eat, etc.

at nighttime, make a cup of tea, as u usually take tea.

forget about it for a good hour.

put it in microwave to reheat, for about 1 minute?

taste

enjoy

goes well with: reduced fat blueberry muffin.

Gingerbread lattes from starbucks are good.

An excerpt from my day. Obviously went a little mental after a whole day of unpacking boxes in a warehouse. unpack my box, i say.

To H:
"and here i am eating carbonara out of the saucepan. i had a spare serving left, i was going to message cute boys and say "come lick my bowl" but then i stood over the stove and ate the rest while drinking red wine and talking to C on the phone.
Youll be the cutest person with braces ever. ask about getting them on the back if ur stressed. Ill buy u cute accessories for them. like bands with daisies on them or some shit.
If u cant eat - try sucking on some chocolate. I was going to say "my dick",,, but then ur friends...and mine who stalk me, will think im a freak. or a transvestite. They are not the same. obvs. x"

smuggling duck rilettes

onto a baguette in the change room. id much rather be outside given that the water is so SULTRY but i was scared people would look at me funny -- as i only have a spoon to spread it.

fish

I wish i had taken photos
Someone get me a lomo and I will have no more excuses

I think Hayley took some. while i was laughing uncontrollably. on floor? something to do with a soap dispenser.

Mermaid theme -
there was one
and nat knew the movie. it was very exciting to learn. i heart nat.

Also learnt that I do not enjoy being demanded into introducing myself. And then being insulted by it - something to do with shaking hands. I probably brought it on myself, a small amount. If only people were kinder.

Lesson 3: Dont drink so much booze. Im 22. I should know better than to end up in a gutter, not being able to move. Except for nodding head. yes. I want to go home. No. I do not want hungry jacks. no I do not need to vomit. Yes. I do need you to pull the cab over. Yes. Now i feel better...yes, someone from college will probably see that tomorrow. Yes. I do want to go back to the party now.

yes i acted like a drunk 15 year old.
yes i am very embarrassed.
no i will not learn from it.

xx

fuck APEC

The sun sign on the harbour bridge was lit up in the AFTERNOON today, whilst APEC is supposed to be discussing global warming and climate change.

MH is contemplating scent.

facebook is taking over my mind. Every thought/feeling/similar, goes through in my mind as a status edit. e.g. on the train this afternoon, I smelt a familiar smell. Of somebody. It made me turn my head quickly to make sure an ex wasn't on my carriage.
"MH IS...contemplating the scent of a mans cologne. Ex? Or is it the scent of someone left on my pillow?"


Also.

The man driving my bus the other day wore a tophat. He also had black fingernails and long hair. Which is fine. except he would take off the tophat while driving, but make sure he would put it on at each bus stop when he was taking coins from riders (of said bus).
I was slightly enchanted, mostly creeped.