she smokes cigarettes down to the bones.

The greatest minds of our generation have stale smoke hanging off them like flesh off lonely bones. Finally, some core of resistance in me, she says. Go on, you'll be forgiven. We don't know where it will end but still we push at the limits, breaking ourselves down until we are not fully conscious. Then our minds will hang themselves prettily off telephone poles.

ass-loads of inspiration

from the 'before the fall' collections.

when i am bothered i will upload my women cut-ups.

i love this art. wow. this + hannah hoch & sally smart. women cutting women up. it's weird. yes, but comes out pretty in the end. we're recycling someone elses work. we're butchering pictures. cutting it all up. looking at it in a different way. it's nice. i like it.

A List.

1. Your best friend stands you up over a txt msg you never recieve. Go get coffee.
2. Said coffee does not contain sugar. You hate sugarless coffee. Man who GIVES coffee is smug as fuck and gives you a Look.
3. Begin to cry. Sit in the sunshine and continue, hyterically, for the next hour and a half.
4. Find out that you have unintentionally stood someone up. Yesterday, when you were phone-less for the sake of Saving The World.
5. Walk 500 metres, down Burke Road Camberwell, blissfully unaware of the fact that your mascara - of which you are wearing BUCKETLOADS - was, in fact, not waterproof.
6. Go into borders. Spend $30 you don't have on book you don't need.
7. Though YOU may be unaware of the fact that your face is covered in mascara coloured, tear shaped rivets, the man selling you the book is not. He gives you an awkward look and says something about it being a good book.
8. Go into work. Boss avoids eye contact. You wonder briefly why.
9. In the tea room, two women are on break. When you walk in, they stop talking. You say hi. They stare.
10. Enter bathroom and see yourself, black mascara tears and all.
12. Go to work. It's the happiest 4 hours of your entire day.
13. Wait at train station for friend to turn up to get coffee. Never happens. Msg her. Nothing happens. Get on another train.
14. Tell original friend that you're coming over. You assume this will be ok, as she stood you up because she was sick at home. However, she replies that she's out.
15. Friend calls you. You're unnecessarily rude. You ask her please not to call you.
16. Get off the train. You have a message from a friend asking you out to coffee if you're in the area. You call him. He's out for lunch and will meet you in an hour.
17. He does not meet you later. You go to Degraves and he's not there. You spend more money you don't have and go home.
18. Sitting on the train.
Child: what's that?
Mother: those are badges. Ask the lady what they are. Say 'what's that on your bag?'
Child: no..
Mother: Go on, ask the lady
Child: That's a man mummy! Mummy, that's a man. No, it's a man. It's a man!
19. Mother spends the rest of the train trip discussing with her child what's 'wrong' with women with short hair. Child exclaims loudly that men should not wear lipstick. Mother tells him she'll explain when he is older.

polaroids

source: suicideunderground @ flickr.

dystopian dreaming

"The sound shivers through the walls, through the table, through the window frame, and into my finger. These distraction-oholics. These focus-ophobics. Old George Orwell got it backward. Big Brother isn't watching. He's singing and dancing. He's pulling rabbits out of a hat. Big Brother's holding your attention every moment you're awake. He's making sure you're always distracted. He's making sure you're fully absorbed... and this being fed, it's worse than being watched. With the world always filling you, no one has to worry about what's in your mind. With everyone's imagination atrophied, no one will ever be a threat to the world."

big words small minds

Being an intellectual creates a lot of questions and no answers. You can fill your life up with ideas and still go home lonely. All you really have that really matters are feelings. That's what music is to me.

i like to think that living in the dusk would be best. all cloudy shadows and shadowy clouds. i would wear shoes, still.

'i hate it. i'm such a fucking idealist.'
'you're not idealistic. just.. romantic. believing the best. believing it can happen. thinking nicely about the fate of the world and the people in it'
'not such a bad thing?'
'not such a bad thing.'

the words build up behind my fingers when all i have to write is bleak futures and matted blood hair. books pile up behind my bed when the time to mind - open leaves me, evaporates for the time i need to procrastinate.

this is the room

one afternoon, i knew i could love you.

if the army will come, we will greet them with roses.

len lye #2

don't say it

i have fallen in love with a man, long dead or else very, very old, who writes poems, paints film and makes sculptures which look like they should move. but don't.

"Lo de do Eric, I’m up to where Debil-debil is just going to lick Mr. Bean-in-the-Pod with a blunt three-pronged tongue and cover him with spit and eat him up. That means about another 500 drawings, then first section’s completed. A second a day and why not? It certainly moves and doesn’t get hung up on a wall to make you look. It moves on and off the screen and you aren’t forced to see it if you don’t want to. I’m through with talking about art: after all the fuss and when the art critics have stopped making history there’s nothing left but a few designs by Aus., Af., Am., or Ocean Is. Aboriginals, designs complete in themselves, unattached to history or sentiment; done because they were feeling good and not goofy. They remain what they are, a record of well-being, unspiritual. Don’t say it. The welterweight mass of London still means nothing. About four people know the real chaos and are shining up the word reciprocation; if not the four needn’t do any shining because they’ve got eyes. Apart from all that around here it’s easy when it comes to fun. It’s easy jazz and ha-ha Sundays: give us that kind of not too far away from work, separate from the mournings after, from any kind of fukkups following late among the housetops and drinkups, none of that loose juice for us – the difference of being awake for work, sleeping a break to pull the chain for no headaches and no one needs to be reminded we’ve got the most to get nearer to turning our toes up to prove it. "

"But please don’t and you can’t stop you surreal sight seers. Stop. First to ladies and gents. Stop. You present. Stop. The mind and to hell on art. Go. A revulsion log long overdue. Roll. Though your eye sieves give many an image many a queer romantic facet. Start. That can’t be helped. Go. Far be it from me to slam any mind doors. Push. But where I plumb is to plumb so deep in visual imagery yearns with visual firsts that no company association is necessary except : I suppose : mind visual non-literary nigs from its own root essences. Whoa. Vanilla spitola outa inner into outer visual graphola or plastic or movement or sound strums on the main mind chord making just a tiny clear ping. Dit. A ping a sing a no thing or things disguised for the mind only. Yes. For mind : by the mind : in visual sign of the Yo ho Yo holy trinity – Mind. Self. Time. That’s trin.alone everything. Ho. That’s it then. Stop. O.K. back again O.K. Revolve. O me K. Please stop. It can’t stop. Keep the medium behind it. O.K. "

- Len Lye

probably the greatest thing i have ever seen.