Sometimes it seems that I am seriously ill. Procrastination doesn't seem to be a bad habit, it's a way of life, not the best way perhaps, but a life fit for the lazy. If I do something worthwhile, it would be an accident, and if I am wasting time, I am running on schedule. Nothing doesn't become a regret and what turns out good would be but a stroke of luck, or if I was religious, a miracle from God. I don't feel part of the human race; rather an alienation from everyone who seems to be acknowledging the tick tock-ing of that incessant clock and even if they aren't exactly 'seizing the day', they are at least feeling the days race past. Each day feels longer than the last, yet the weeks feel as though they are tapering away. And the years? - I don't remember the years. Time is always a few steps ahead of me and I just trust that tomorrow will always be there to catch the ugly remnants of today. Am I on a race against time? No, I am simply accepting the fact that I'm going to lose. Perhaps these bitter thoughts are exactly what being human is about. But then I would fall under the dreadful human condition of constantly playing Tetris - you know, that bad analogy I made a while ago - until you don't even know why the fuck you are playing at all. And you wonder if you should even bother trying to win.
One of those inside outside; upside downside; leftside rightside days - or maybe weeks. I hope not years.
I've started to enjoy drawing again. Drawing with markers freehand; it's satisfying to leave a mark and know that even if it was a bad mark, there is absolutely nothing you can do to erase it, you sort of just have to make the most of things and move on from there.
lundi 27 août 2007
mercredi 15 août 2007
no one tells US how to party
Last Saturday, it was Bernie's 17th birthday party...
and when I say birthday party, I mean a real BIRTHDAY party ;)
with REAL party hats, of course.
There were plastic champagne glasses :9
Alana was very smug to be at a REAL birthday party.
We played games like 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey'. And, obviously, 'Pass the Parcel'. I won, the prize was Merlin's facial hair.
Alana styling my prize.
Duh, of course we played 'Musical Chairs'. The competition was pretty violent in the end.
Check out Caity's swift, whole body twist, turn and hop.
Alana can't beat that. ^^
A lot of balloons were blown. But subsequently popped for fun.
Gabby sporting my prize.
Who does it suit more, Gabby or Alana?
We also had a piñata, as every good birthday party should. Our's was in the shape of Elmo :p
Belle, nursing Elmo, expressing her maternal side.
And, Belle, expressing her Xena side. I guess most people feel this way about photographers "If you shoot me one more time, I am so shooting you back." I should watch my ass in future -.-
All good feelings for Elmo the piñata was lost soon enough. That cloud of dust coming out of Elmo's derrière is in fact sherbet. (NB: Do not put sherbet into piñatas, or anything else that you will be bashing with a stick for that matter.)
Motherly instincts all gone for Belle, as she smashes Elmo apart with a grunt. And his sweet sweet insides come gushing out. mmmm
All that remains is but a deformed head.
What does this look like to you?
Eva and Bernie think they make pretty convincing Siamese twins...
Oh yea, did I mention there were ABBA songs? There was a LOT of ABBA.
And that, my friends, is how a real birthday party goes ~
and when I say birthday party, I mean a real BIRTHDAY party ;)
with REAL party hats, of course.
There were plastic champagne glasses :9
Alana was very smug to be at a REAL birthday party.
We played games like 'Pin the Tail on the Donkey'. And, obviously, 'Pass the Parcel'. I won, the prize was Merlin's facial hair.
Alana styling my prize.
Duh, of course we played 'Musical Chairs'. The competition was pretty violent in the end.
Check out Caity's swift, whole body twist, turn and hop.
Alana can't beat that. ^^
A lot of balloons were blown. But subsequently popped for fun.
Gabby sporting my prize.
Who does it suit more, Gabby or Alana?
We also had a piñata, as every good birthday party should. Our's was in the shape of Elmo :p
Belle, nursing Elmo, expressing her maternal side.
And, Belle, expressing her Xena side. I guess most people feel this way about photographers "If you shoot me one more time, I am so shooting you back." I should watch my ass in future -.-
All good feelings for Elmo the piñata was lost soon enough. That cloud of dust coming out of Elmo's derrière is in fact sherbet. (NB: Do not put sherbet into piñatas, or anything else that you will be bashing with a stick for that matter.)
Motherly instincts all gone for Belle, as she smashes Elmo apart with a grunt. And his sweet sweet insides come gushing out. mmmm
All that remains is but a deformed head.
What does this look like to you?
Eva and Bernie think they make pretty convincing Siamese twins...
Oh yea, did I mention there were ABBA songs? There was a LOT of ABBA.
And that, my friends, is how a real birthday party goes ~
mardi 14 août 2007
ugly beautiful things
My portfolio will be based on the theme "Unnatural". I guess these are...inspiration? Even though this is all photography, I'll try and experiment with as many mediums as I can.
What do you find beautiful?
Labels:
astound me compel me chill me
lundi 13 août 2007
crazy
My body is this elastic band which can only be stretched so far. I boasted about my immune system, about how invincible I am when the rest of my friends were down with a cold. But all the while as I taunted them and said that they had avian influenza or SARS (I even went as far as AIDS) my own little elastic band of antibodies were being stretched and now finally it has snapped.
And you can be sure that I am ill because I have started these long-winded analogies which don't really strengthen a point.
It is late and I know I should sleep. But when I'm a bit fever-ish, I can never fall asleep. If I close my eyes my naughty vivid imagination will create images of my bronchial getting clogged with flem and when I cough I see little bits of flem and bronchial get torn off and coughed up and there is little specks of blood which splatter onto my tonsils and then if I cough again I get this panoramic view of my two lungs which are inflamed and red and palpitating. And then I quite literally see myself coughing up my lung. At which point I conclude that I'm going crazy and sit up in bed angrily until my shoulder's feel cold. I don't need to go through this to know that it will happen if I go to bed. So I'm staying up instead. What a stupid decision.
Oh how I whinge and whine! If I was a starving child in Africa I'd probably whine myself to death before the hunger pains kick in.
I look a bit crazy right now. I am stressing out at how much work I haven't done and feeling the effects of high dosages of menthol (my cough lozenges wrapper tells me I have long surpassed the recommended number of lozenges to be taken per day). Falling behind and getting sick is like getting pregnant and not gaining weight; it's handy but at the same time you wonder if it's a bad thing on the long run. Oh no, another bad analogy. I am so full of them.
I think if I saw myself as I am right now on the streets, I would either walk to the other side of the street or avoid eye contact.
If Ms. Wilson thinks that I'm turning up for Chem tomorrow, she has some more thinking to do. Would I ever let a valid excuse for wagging go so freely?
And you can be sure that I am ill because I have started these long-winded analogies which don't really strengthen a point.
It is late and I know I should sleep. But when I'm a bit fever-ish, I can never fall asleep. If I close my eyes my naughty vivid imagination will create images of my bronchial getting clogged with flem and when I cough I see little bits of flem and bronchial get torn off and coughed up and there is little specks of blood which splatter onto my tonsils and then if I cough again I get this panoramic view of my two lungs which are inflamed and red and palpitating. And then I quite literally see myself coughing up my lung. At which point I conclude that I'm going crazy and sit up in bed angrily until my shoulder's feel cold. I don't need to go through this to know that it will happen if I go to bed. So I'm staying up instead. What a stupid decision.
Oh how I whinge and whine! If I was a starving child in Africa I'd probably whine myself to death before the hunger pains kick in.
I look a bit crazy right now. I am stressing out at how much work I haven't done and feeling the effects of high dosages of menthol (my cough lozenges wrapper tells me I have long surpassed the recommended number of lozenges to be taken per day). Falling behind and getting sick is like getting pregnant and not gaining weight; it's handy but at the same time you wonder if it's a bad thing on the long run. Oh no, another bad analogy. I am so full of them.
I think if I saw myself as I am right now on the streets, I would either walk to the other side of the street or avoid eye contact.
If Ms. Wilson thinks that I'm turning up for Chem tomorrow, she has some more thinking to do. Would I ever let a valid excuse for wagging go so freely?
Labels:
whinge whinge whinge
mercredi 8 août 2007
jelly
Long overdue photo update of a roll of kodak gold 200 taken with a cheap toy camera. Not cross-processed, but tones came out nice-ish.
Another roll is on its way..
Another roll is on its way..
mardi 7 août 2007
tetris
Homo sapiens you see have this tendency, compulsion, no; vital addiction, to playing Tetris. When misfitting blocks fall into view it is part of the human condition to see them as cumbersome, a problem that must be executed. Elimination of pesky blocks is arduous though, one must fit them together as well as one can muster and only, only, when the blocks form a complete row will they rid themself. And when this occurs, one experiences the best feeling known to man kind; the feeling of absolute exemption from misfitting blocks. Some may even call this Nirvana.
When I play Tetris, I can never concentrate long enough to clear an entire row. But that's ok, I just pretend I didn't see any.
.
.
"What blocks?"
.
When I play Tetris, I can never concentrate long enough to clear an entire row. But that's ok, I just pretend I didn't see any.
.
.
"What blocks?"
.
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