Friday, February 27, 2009

true love

sara quin.

(i love tegan too! sara is just my soulmate :)

Tuesday, February 24, 2009

funeral blues

        Stop all the clocks, cut off the telephone,
        Prevent the dog from barking with a juicy bone,
        Silence the pianos and with muffled drum
        Bring out the coffin, let the mourners come.

        Let aeroplanes circle moaning overhead
        Scribbling on the sky the message 'He is Dead'.
        Put crepe bows round the white necks of the public doves,
        Let the traffic policemen wear black cotton gloves.

        He was my North, my South, my East and West,
        My working week and my Sunday rest,
        My noon, my midnight, my talk, my song;
        I thought that love would last forever: I was wrong.

        The stars are not wanted now; put out every one,
        Pack up the moon and dismantle the sun,
        Pour away the ocean and sweep up the wood;
        For nothing now can ever come to any good.

i adore this poem. first came across it in yep, you guessed it, lit class in high school.

i find it fascinating to wikipedia/google poets, although sometimes they lose some of their mysterious cool when it do that.

Monday, February 23, 2009

gonna make a pie with a heart in the middle

these were shot around the time keri russell made the movie waitress. co-starring nathan fillion, it's a gorgeous indie movie about a pie-cook/waitress, but don't go in expecting a romantic, happy ending like i did. haha

fantastic movie, i highly recommend. super sad story behind it though. adrienne shelley, who wrote, directed & acted (in) it, was murdered before the movie was released.

it went on to become a surprise hit & her killer was sentenced to 25 years in prison.

more here.

Friday, February 20, 2009

pablo neruda. even his name is poetry.

            Love, we're going home now,
            Where the vines clamber over the trellis:
            Even before you, the summer will arrive,
            On its honeysuckle feet, in your bedroom.

            Our nomadic kisses wandered over all the world:
            Armenia, dollop of disinterred honey:
            Ceylon, green dove: and the YangTse with its old
            Old patience, dividing the day from the night.

            And now, dearest, we return, across the crackling sea
            Like two blind birds to their wall,
            To their nest in a distant spring:

            Because love cannot always fly without resting,
            Our lives return to the wall, to the rocks of the sea:
            Our kisses head back home where they belong.

Thursday, February 19, 2009

i can't fall in love with every single idiot i see

afraid of the neighbours out in the hall
i'm worried they'll hear us come through the wall
down in the car park, out in the street
out in the real world people are mean

i live in a shoebox, i live in a cell
and hearing my small talk
it's easy to tell that i don't belong here

just cause it works for you doesn't mean it works for me
i can't fall in love with every single idiot i see

i saw you with harry out on the town
did you ignore me, or the other way round?
yell over the music
can't find a seat
pushing past me
step on my feet

and this is a shoebox
this is a cell
feels like my skin belongs to somebody else
but I smile and suck it in

just cause it works for you doesn't mean it works for me
i can't fall in love with every single idiot i see

when i see i've had enough
and the seas are getting rough
i just need time
til everything is back to normal
and everything is as it should be
if everything is less than you hoped for
everything's okay by me

kate miller-heidke, shoebox

effing love this song.


Wednesday, February 18, 2009

feminism is not a dirty word

Joyce Stevens

Because women's work is never done and is underpaid or unpaid or boring or repetitious and we're the first to get the sack and what we look like is more important than what we do and if we get raped it's our fault and if we get bashed we must have provoked it and if we raise our voices we're nagging bitches and if we enjoy sex we're nymphos and if we don't we're frigid and if we love women it's because we can't get a "real" man and if we ask our doctor too many questions we're neurotic and/or pushy and if we expect community care for children we're selfish and if we stand up for our rights we're aggressive and "unfeminine" and if we don't we're typical weak females and if we want to get married we're out to trap a man and if we don't we're unnatural and because we still can't get an adequate safe contraceptive but men can walk on the moon and if we can't cope or don't want a pregnancy we're made to feel guilty about abortion and ...... for lots and lots of other reasons we are part of the women's liberation movement.

Adrienne Rich

There is a cop who is both prowler and father:
he comes from your block, grew up with your brothers,
had certain ideals.
You hardly know him in his boots and silver badge,
on horseback, one hand touching his gun.

You hardly know him but you have to get to know him:
he has access to machinery that could kill you.
He and his stallion clop like warlords among the trash,
his ideals stand in the air, a frozen cloud
from between his unsmiling lips.

And so, when the time comes, you have to turn to him,
the maniac's sperm still greasing your thighs,
your mind whirling like crazy. You have to confess
to him, you are guilty of the crime
of having been forced.

And you see his blue eyes, the blue eyes of all the family
whom you used to know, grow narrow and glisten,
his hand types out the details
and he wants them all
but the hysteria in your voice pleases him best.

You hardly know him but now he thinks he knows you:
he has taken down you worst moment
on a machine and filed it in a file.
He knows, or thinks he knows, how much you imagined;
he knows, or thinks he knows, what you secretly wanted.

He has access to machinery that could get you put away;
and if, in the sickening light of the precinct,
and if, in the sickening light of the precinct,
your details sound like a portrait of your confessor,
will you swallow, will you deny them, will you lie your way home?

He Was More
Lisa Demsky

He was more credible.

As i was passed out
unable to speak
He was more able.
As i tried to struggle
but couldn't move
He was more stable.
And i tried to understand
and i tried to feel
and i wanted to hate
but i
But he
He was more.

But i felt him
and heard him
and heard her say no
and she tried to scream
but was silent.

And i wanted to cry
to feel
to scream
but she was confused
and she

The drama was heard
The lights blinked twice
The poor players performed
like real life.
He was silent.
He was respectable.
He was more.
And the players all talked
and the fools all believe
they were more credible.
And with all of their sound
she almost believed them

She wanted to cry
but stopped herself.
She blinked once
and then her eyes dried
and i tried
and she tried to explain
And she explained to the judge, but
He was more credible.

When the stage was cleared
the audience roared,
the lights blinked once
and then died.
They were

more, as i held my head up
and searched for my pride
i was
and i tried to explain
and i wanted to scream
and i tried to hate

And alone in my room
i finally cried.
He was upset
His life was disturbed
His life was more
He was
more, she was
i was
was raped.

Circles in the Water
Marge Piercy

There is no difference between being raped
and being pushed down a flight of cement steps
except that the wounds also bleed inside.

There is no difference between being raped
and being run over by a truck
except that afterward men ask if you enjoyed it.

There is no difference between being raped
and being bit on the ankle by a rattlesnake
except that people ask if your skirt was short
and why you were out alone anyhow.

There is no difference between being raped
and going head first through a windshield
except that afterward you are afraid
not of cars
but half the human race.

The rapist is your boyfriend's brother.
He sits beside you in the movies eating popcorn.
Rape fattens on the fantasies of the normal male
like a maggot in garbage.

Fear of rape is a cold wind blowing
all of the time on a woman's hunched back.
Never to stroll alone on a sand road through pine woods,
never to climb a trail across a bald
without that aluminum in the mouth
when I see a man climbing toward me.

Never to open the door to a knock
without that razor just grazing the throat.
The fear of the dark side of hedges,
the back seat of the car, the empty house
rattling keys like a snake's warning.
The fear of the smiling man
in whose pocket is a knife.
The fear of the serious man
in whose fist is locked hatred.

All it takes to cast a rapist is seeing your body
as jackhammer, as blowtorch, as adding-machine-gun.
All it takes is hating that body
your own, your self, your muscle that softens to flab.

All it takes is to push what you hate,
what you fear onto the soft alien flesh.
To bucket out invincible as a tank
armored with treads without senses
to possess and punish in one act,
to rip up pleasure, to murder those who dare
live in the leafy flesh open to love.

After The 'Ball'
Lilian Tait

After the fingernails
are cleaned
and the debris examined
After the pubic hair
is sponged and tweezed
vagina scraped for
to be specified
After the bruise
of a throat is measured
and photographs
of other welts
are checked
for abnormalities
in the bite
After the p.m.,
After the forms are filed
and the mortician
restores with art
spaced underneath
minus teeth
to create
a little smile
After the final
farewell celebration
After dark
After light
After all
It might have been me
After the ball...

robbery ...... or rape?

"Mr Smith, you were held up at gunpoint on the main street?"
"Did you struggle with the robber?"
"Why not?"
"He was armed."
"Then you made a conscious decision to comply with his demands rather than resist?"
"Did you scream? Cry out?"
"I see. Have you ever been held up before?"
"Have you ever given money away?"
"Yes, of course."
"And you did so willingly?"
"What are you getting at?"
"Well, lets put it like this, Mr Smith. You've given away money in the past. In fact you've got quite a reputation for philanthropy. How can we be sure you weren't contriving to have your money taken by force?"
"Listen, if I wanted..."
"Never mind. What time did this hold up take place?"
"About 11p.m."
"You were out on the street at 11p.m.? Doing what?"
"Just walking."
"Just walking? You know it's dangerous being out on the street late at night. Weren't you aware that you could have been held up?"
"I hadn't thought about it."
"What were you wearing?"
"Let's see - a suit."
"An expensive suit?"
"Well yes, I'm a successful lawyer, you know."
"In other words, Mr Smith, you were walking around the streets late at night in a suit that practically advertised the fact that you might be a good target for some easy money, isn't that so? I mean, if we didn't know better, Mr Smith, we might even think that you were asking for this to happen, mightn't we?"

any parallels?

normally i wouldn't post so many poems all at once, but i think it's important to see these all together.

i first came across these in high school, in either year 11 or 12 lit class. my teacher was amazing.

whenever the subject of feminism comes up, one of my friends always says how she's not a feminist, she doesn't like feminism & she would rather not work & stay at home, etc etc. which is all well & good, but feminism is about having the CHOICE to do that, or to work, or to have an abortion, or to have your boobs hanging out if you want to, etc etc.

i could talk about this forever, but i think i'll stop now. what are YOUR thoughts?

in a good year, you kind of look as if you'd be fearless.

(click to enlarge)

leonard cohen concert @ sandalford winery, 07/02/09

the lovely jacinta tagged me with this adorable little award

1) i don't have a middle name.

2) i only drink out of mugs, never teacups.
2b) whenever i get a coffee at a coffeeshop i always get it in a take-away cup, whether i am "dining in" or not. tastes much better :)

3) instead of dealing with my problems, i ignore them & hope they'll go away... & eventually everything blows up in my face.

4) i'm finally changing things about myself & my life that make me unhappy.

5) i've only known my best friends for 2 months but i know we're going to be friends forever.
5b) & these 2 months have been some of the best times of my life.

6) the thought of getting pregnant grosses me out SO MUCH. i can't even describe it (or it would take up about 3 pages...).

7) i can never have enough sleep. i sleep for 12 hours & 3 hours later i'm ready for bed again.
7b) nothing is better than sleep. not even sex. truly.

8) i have a thing for hipbones.
8b) so of course i LOVE this photo from gala's 365.

(click to enlarge)

9) i have a crush for the first time in forever & it's lovely.

10) this was nowhere near as hard as i expected it to be.

a beautiful dream
another girl, another blog
click your heels
gin in a teacup
girl with the big brown eyes
the holly and the ivy
lavender and yolk
lick my cupcakes
messy maisies

(i would've tagged the creamy middles, but R's been tagged about 3 times already)

tag-ees, do the same & pass it on ♥

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

addicted to animal things

i've had this photo saved on my hard drive for around 6-8 months, & clearly those were what i had in mind when i bought these.. completely unconsciously.


could this be any more awesome? i'm in love.

the animal song ;) couldn't resist

my other obsession: handbags

i have far too many.

most are thrifted or gifted though, so it's not so bad.

these cost me $5, $2 & $2 respectively.
(though not all at once!)

Monday, February 16, 2009

& the only time i've touched you is in my sleep

so we've put an end to it this time.
i'm no longer yours and you're no longer mine.
you said this hill looks far too steep
if i'm not even sure it's me you wanna keep.
and it's been ten days without you in my reach,
and the only time i've touched you is in my sleep.

but time has changed nothing at all -
you're still the only one that feels like home.
i've tried cutting the ropes and
i let you go but you're still the only one
that feels like home.

you won't talk me into it next time,
if i'm going away your heart's coming too.
cos i miss your hands i miss your face
when i get back let's disappear without a trace

cos it's been ten days without you in my reach,
and the only time i've touched you is in my sleep.

cut time has changed nothing at all -
you're still the only one that feels like home.
i've tried cutting the ropes,
tried letting go but you're still the only one
that feels like home.

so tell me, did you really think...
oh tell me, did you really think i had gone
when you couldn't see me anymore?
when you couldn't...

cos baby time has changed nothing at all -
you're still the only one that feels like home.
and i've tried cutting the ropes,
i let you go but you're still the only one
that feels like home, yeah,
you're still the only one that feels like home,
you're still the only one i've gotta love.

missy higgins, ten days

been listening to a lot of missy lately, & found out the other day that she's playing at a festival soon that i'm going to. excitement!

happy belated valentine's day to you all!

apologies for my absence over the last few days, i was too busy having a good time :)


number one girlfriend:

sara quinn

Sunday, February 15, 2009

i'm loving

this photo is perfection.

spent the evening going through lena's blog.

getting so much inspiration, & between this & gossip girl i'm starting to crave winter + tights + boots... nooo! as soon as winter hits i start craving summer again :S

Wednesday, February 11, 2009

favourite poems, #2

Without you every morning would feel like going back to work after a holiday,
Without you I couldn't stand the smell of the East Lancs Road,
Without you ghost ferries would cross the Mersey manned by skeleton crews,
Without you I'd probably feel happy and have more money and time and nothing to do with it,
Without you I'd have to leave my stillborn poems on other people's doorsteps, wrapped in brown paper,
Without you there'd never be sauce to put on sausage butties,
Without you plastic flowers in shop windows would just be plastic flowers in shop windows,
Without you I'd spend my summers picking morosely over the remains of train crashes,
Without you white birds would wrench themselves free from my paintings and fly off dripping blood into the night,
Without you green apples wouldn't taste greener,
Without you Mothers wouldn't let their children play out after tea,
Without you every musician in the world would forget how to play the blues,
Without you Public Houses would be public again,
Without you the Sunday Times colour suppliment would come out in black-and-white,
Without you indifferent colonels would shrug their shoulders and press the button,
Without you they's stop changing the flowers in Piccadilly Gardens,
Without you Clark Kent would forget how to become Superman,
Without you Sunshine Breakfast would only consist of Cornflakes,
Without you there'd be no colour in Magic colouring books,
Without you Mahler's 8th would only be performed by street musicians in derelict houses,
Without you they'd forget to put the salt in every packet of crisps,
Without you it would be an offence punishable by a fine of up to £200 or two months' imprisonment to be found in possession of curry powder,
Without you riot police are massing in quiet sidestreets,
Without you all streets would be one-way the other way,
Without you there'd be no one to kiss goodnight when we quarrel,
Without you the first martian to land would turn round and go away again,
Without you they'd forget to change the weather,
Without you blind men would sell unlucky heather,
Without you there would be
no landscapes/no stations/no houses
no chipshops/no quiet villages/no seagulls
on beaches/no hopscotch on pavements/no night/no morning/
there'd be no city no country
Without you.

Adrian Henri

my favourite part is:
Without you there would be
no landscapes/no stations/no houses
no chipshops/no quiet villages/no seagulls
on beaches/no hopscotch on pavements/no night/no morning/
there'd be no city no country
Without you.
i think it works well even on its own.

Tuesday, February 10, 2009

eye candy of the week: ellen page

guest appearances by michael cera, catherine keener (LOVE her) & olivia thirlby (<333)>

soon to be mine

do i need blue shoes? no.
but do i want them? oh yes.
decisions decisions.

& these are the perfect oxfords. it's love.

readers, you may be thinking i have a problem, given the amount of shoes that have already featured on this blog in 10 or so posts.

& you would be correct. i do.
but oh what a lovely addiction to have :)

Monday, February 9, 2009


(photo credit: the stylish wanderer)

i thrifted a pair of boots like these last week, except brown.

can't wait to wear them.

current obsession

there was a guy at my school when i was in high school
we'd ride side by side in the morning on our bicycles
never even spoken or faced each other
but on the last hill we'd race each other

when we reached the racks we'd each go our own way
i wasn't in his classes, i didn't know his name
when we finally got to speak he just stared at his feet
and mumbled a sentence that ended with 'james'

i was young and caught in the crowd
i didn't know then what i know now
i was dumb, and i was proud
and i'm sorry
if i could go back, do it again
i'd be someone you could call friend
please please believe that i'm sorry

well he was quite a big guy, kinda shy and quiet
when the kids called him weird he didn't try to deny it
every lunchtime he'd spend walking by himself
round the boundary of the grounds til he heard the bell

well one day i found him, joined him on his walk
we were silent for a while until we started to talk
i told him my family were fighting in court
he said his step-dad and him always fought

we talked about music; he was into punk
told me all the bands that i liked were junk
i said i'd never heard the songs the sex pistols sang
i laughed back at him and then the bell rang

i was young and caught in the crowd
i didn't know then what i know now
i was dumb, and i was proud
and i'm sorry
if i could go back, do it again
i'd be someone you could call friend
please please believe that i'm sorry

it was after school in the afternoon
the corridors were crowded as we came out of the rooms
three guys i knew pushed him into the cement
threw away his bag and said he had no friends

he yelled that he did and he looked around
tried getting up but they pushed him on down
that's when he saw me, called out my name
and i turned my back, and just walked away

kate miller-heidke, caught in the crowd

going to see her in concert next month, yay :)

latest purchase

it's love.

Thursday, February 5, 2009