30 August 2010

seascape / treescape

My brother took this photo as we stopped in Wollongong, I actually love it even though it's blurry...it looks just like an impressionist painting.

took this in the Rocks, Sydney

in the gardens

This is how I started my first Saturday back in Sydney; sat in the Royal Botanical Gardens, drinking chai.
Photo taken by Luke.

Great Tipple

This year especially, I've taken to drinking gin+tonic like it's going out of fashion. I don't know why, I was usually indifferent about it before, but something happened and it's literally my go-to/always have a pleasant time/refreshing/just lovely/never fail drink.
Hendricks is my latest obsession. I am in love, with the bottle, with the delicate taste. It's a summer gin. It needs cucumber. Did I mention the gorgeous bottle?  Come find me on a sunny afternoon, we'll have a drink.

on the fringe

So I'm still jetlagged...it's getting a teeny bit better each day.
I'm getting my hair cut today and I can't wait, I always feel a bit better, fresher, more pulled together after a hair cut.  
Here's some photos of my best girl (and hair!) crush. Sorry Zooey, but I've had a thick blunt fringe stopping at my eyebrows for about 6 years in a row. Time to embrace the longer messier side fringe methinks...take it away Ms. Mosshart!

29 August 2010

you're Whistler's mama, you're camembert!

smile-inducing cultural references to describe a sweetheart courtesy of Cole Porter

27 August 2010

the arrival

Just arrived in Sydney this morn. Eyes red.
Cried so much on the plane. Still devastated at leaving Londres.
My heart hurts.

20 August 2010

tote fun

In a perfect world, I would receive something in the mail from McSweeney's  four or more times a year. I really wish I had the cash to spare for the upcoming Issue 36 (which they are claiming will arrive as a lifesize head in a box!)  but until I get the funding sorted out for my McSweeney's tendancies...this tote from their shop made me smile;

actually, the description made me smile even bigger;
"This tote—made by Walter Green, a single man living in New York, available at waltergreens@gmail.com—serves many purposes. But mostly it informs everyone that you are in a committed relationship."

Buy one here

13 August 2010

I want to go to there: tiny houses

These fall into the realm of Stuart Little...real teeny tiny houses; I don't imagine they are much fun to live in unless you were on your own (partners? kids? pets? friends staying over?) and were quite minimalist inside...but still! Kinda like the grown-up version of a cubby-house...

Sydney has some really sweet old workmans cottages in the inner city that are now family homes; only 2 more weeks until I am wandering Sydney streets again and taking photos of randomness (including my favourite, the white terrace house sandwiched between two big office buildings on Chalmers Street...have loved that house for too long now!).

Have a gander....

12 August 2010


Someone described this as 'like an Edward Hopper painting but with words'....and it don't get much better than that; so take it away darling Frank!


There's nothing worse
than feeling bad and not
being able to tell you.
Not because you'd kill me
or it would kill you, or
we don't love each other.
It's space. The sky is grey
and clear, with pink and
blue shadows under each cloud.
A tiny airliner drops its
specks over the UN Building.
My eyes, like millions of
glassy squares, merely reflect.
Everything sees through me,
in the daytime I'm too hot
and at night I freeze; I'm
built the wrong way for the
river and a mild gale would
break every fiber in me.
Why don't I go east and west
instead of north and south?
It's the architect's fault.
And in a few years I'll be
useless, not even an office
building. Because you have
no telephone, and live so
far away; the Pepsi-Cola sign,
the seagulls and the noise.

-Frank O'Hara

                               Edward Hopper -office in a small city (1953)


This was always my favourite ride...I would close my eyes in bliss and pretend I was flying; never understood the kids who would cry or be scared on it.

                                                     photo by the amazing Isa Leshko

a book by its cover

When I grow up, I'd love to own all of these penguin classics so finely bound in cloth.

9 August 2010

pink about it

My great aunt has this lovely pink-coral ring that she never takes off. It looks like it's just a part of her hand..I don't know how to explain it. I couldn't stop looking at it, even though to some is is unremarkable...it was so simple and elegant, and it was set in gold. It almost looked like a mini-cameo ring, without the cameo etched in to it. Who knows how long she's had it for?

Here's a few pink things for you; because sometimes, just sometimes, I do like certain shades of pink...

(ceramic ring that spells 'love' in braille)

(this is the exact shade of my aunt's ring...so subtle)

sonnets on a Sunday

If your eyes were not the color of the moon,
of a day full [here, interrupted by the baby waking -- continued about 26
hours later ]
of a day full of clay, and work, and fire,
if even held-in you did not move in agile grace like the air,
if you were not an amber week,

not the yellow moment
when autumn climbs up through the vines;
if you were not that bread the fragrant moon
kneads, sprinkling its flour across the sky,

oh, my dearest, I could not love you so!
But when I hold you I hold everything that is --
sand, time, the tree of the rain,
everything is alive so that I can be alive:

without moving I can see it all:
in your life I see everything that lives.

(Pablo Neruda)


your homecoming will be my homecoming-
my selves go with you,only i remain;
a shadow phantom effigy or seeming
(an almost someone always who’s noone)

a noone who,till their and your returning,
spends the forever of his loneliness
dreaming their eyes have opened to your mourning
feeling their stars have risen through your skies:

so,in how merciful love’s own name,linger
no more than selfless i can quite endure
the absence of that moment when a stranger
takes in his arms my very lifes who’s you

-when all fears hopes beliefs doubts disappear.
Everywhere and joy’s perfect wholeness we’re.

(E.E. Cummings)


Only until this cigarette is ended,
A little moment at the end of all,
While on the floor the quiet ashes fall,
And in the firelight to a lance extended,

Bizarrely with the jazzing music blended,
The broken shadow dances on the wall,
I will permit my memory to recall
The vision of you, by all my dreams attended.

And then, adieu,—farewell!—the dream is done.
Yours is a face of which I can forget
The colour and the features, every one,
The words not ever, and the smiles not yet;

But in your day this moment is the sun
Upon a hill, after the sun has set.

(Edna St. Vincent Millay)

8 August 2010


.....sigh and swoon


It is a proven fact that my mood rises astronomically when wearing ruffles/frills. I can't explain it...but it's pretty hard to be in a sour mood with the shapes the fabric makes all around you. 
These lovely ladies at etsy have designed some pretty fantastic pieces, they make me sigh and sigh but smile at the same time.
Here are some of the best I've seen:

I wish I had fancy functions to attend, if I did I would wear the black floor length dress in a heartbeat...the neckline is sublime! Or what about the suprise detail of the patterned ruffles on the back of the grey dress?
The sweet dusty pink ruffled dress screams 'garden party' or a nice spot of afternoon tea...so pretty and ladylike.
Something a bit more modern with the structured and precise detailing on the hip and shoulders...this look is cool; I saw a book in Sydney full of amazing japanese patterns for some very architectural dresses. I can't sew...but maybe if I am really nice to my mother she will humour me by making me some....pretty please?

And finally...the cutest darn skirt I've seen for a very long time. It would be just right to celebrate my first Sydney spring in three years...any excuse really.


There once was a boy who met a girl and he said to her one day, "since I met you I've been chainsmoking and listening to the Cure a lot". 
This one's for him:

the collective

I've always been interested in the funny names for groups of animals...a school of dolphins, a pride of lions.
So, because it is no secret how much of a nerd I am..I delved deeper and found some more colourful collective nouns. I must say, the birds have the best ones, some of them are bordering on magical, and I am seriously digging the alliteration!

Here are some of my favourites;

a cloud of bats
a chatter of budgerigars
a kaleidoscope/rainbow of butterflies
a caravan of camels
an army of caterpillars
a comfort of cats
a coalition of cheetahs
a quiver of cobras
a murder of crows
a congregation of eagles
a parade of elephants
a business of ferrets
a stand of flamingoes
a company of foxes
a kindergarten/tower/journey of giraffes
a troubling of goldfish
a band of gorillas
an array of hedgehogs
a charm of hummingbirds
an exaltation/ascension of larks
a leap of leopards
an enchantment of nightingales
a parliament of owls
a bouquet of pheasants
a prickle of porcupines
a puddle of puppies
a mischief of rats
an unkindness of ravens
a family of sardines
a shiver of sharks
a knot of snakes
a murmuration/affliction of starlings
a fever of stingrays
a lamentation of swans
a cloud of tadpoles
a creep of tortoises
a committee of vultures
a descent of woodpeckers
a dazzle of zebras

I don't even care if some of them aren't official, they make me smile...not to mention make me imagine the funniest scenarious in my head.

I know the dirty beard ha-ha-hangs

a perfect pop song via the Pixies. I defy you to not sing along!

7 August 2010

letter to Londres

Dear Holloway Road,
                                     Thanks for being the noisiest and most insane place to live on. I can't say I'm going to miss the endless screeching ambulance sirens, the roadworks and trucks that make my room literally shake and tremble or the 3am drunken and sometimes violent episodes of people on their way home from the pub.  But thanks to you, my noise tolerance is so incredibly high, I slept on my aunt's living room couch recently with eight screaming children running around me for hours and hours and didn't notice a damn thing.

You've made me tougher Holloway Road, even though sometimes it feels like every single ambulance, firetruck or police car in London is contracturally obliged to pass by my window, often in quick succession.


two things

I love this bird, cut from the pages of a 1930's London street map...swoon! not to mention the sweet scrawl of the friendly silver necklace.


                                                              @ Joannarutter

a break in the clouds

that last part of 'the 6 foot goddess' reminded me of the chorus in this song...another gem uncovered when my friend put in on a mix tape for me years ago.

the best of Buk (part 1)

she's wild
but kind
my 6 foot goddess
makes me laugh
the laughter of the mutilated
who still need
and her blessed eyes
run deep into her head
like mountain springs
far in
cool and good

she has saved me
from everything that is
not here

('the 6 foot goddess')

and the hours passed and
it all finally vanished like a paperclip in a
bag of trash

('numb your ass and your brain and your heart')

so marvelous
like eating cold olives at 3am
with half the town on fire

('one of the hottest')

she looks like Katharine Hepburn
looked when she was in high school, and I watch those
103 pounds
combing a yard and some change
of reddish hair
before the mirror
and I feel her inside of my
wrists and at the backs of my eyes,
and the toes and legs and belly
of me feel her and
the other part too,
and all of Los Angeles falls down
and weeps for joy,
the walls of love parlours shake-
the ocean rushes in and she turns
to me and says, "damn this hair!"
and I say,


6 August 2010

bugs on the roof

just over 40 years ago in 1969, John, Paul, George & Ringo performed on the Apple roof top in Londres....what I would give to be one of the guys leaning against a chimney, cold wind whipping about my face, listening to 'Don't let me down' and gawking at George's ridiculous yeti coat!

Love the faces of the people milling about on the street below, this whole scene makes me really happy.



I've had these images saved for a few months now...and I can't for the life of me remember where I found them, maybe the Sartorialist, probably. Anyways...each of these woman look fantastic, and each of them have something I admire.

I never know what to do with neutral tones...many of them wash me out
and look horrid against my skin; but I've always wanted a classic camel trenchcoat
instead of my usual black, black and more black of everything.
Hmmm...maybe I won't give up just yet.

I love skirts like this, I have some in Sydney
and they are fantastic; a little careful to iron
...but fantastic nonetheless!

 This, all of this is sublime; the coat, the heels, the grey stockings...
and would you look at that? she's even smoking a cigarette.

she eyes me like a Pisces when I am weak...

I didn't bring enough reading material with me to Hellas, and I didn't bring any music, which I regret infinitely...what was I thinking?!
For some odd, odd reason I had this song in my head on the way to the airport in Thessaloniki. Haven't thought about it in years, but when I returned home I looked up the (kinda creepy) video, and was reminded of how great the song is, and the saturated edgy colour of the visuals.

I can't believe this was 1992. I feel a little old now...eek. But I don't think I really gave Kurt enough credit for writing songs with some of the best melodies around. They really are infectuous.
If I could sing at all, I would have loved to reinterpret them into a slightly different musical composition (no, not a swing version like Paul Anka, though he did prove what I always felt....an excellently written song can be translated again and again and still make an impact).

How badly do I want to re-listen to In Utero ?


I'm back from Hellas, who knows when I will return? It was...interesting. I had several epiphanies, as I always do when I'm in the motherland, so I'm glad for that at least.
Some beautiful views of the sunset through the window on my way home though. Funny, I was so glad and comforted to be sitting on the crowded tube again; London really is home. 

In my first week in the village I found myself on the beach one day, sitting in the sun and reading Bukowski. At first I thought I should have brough O'Hara with me, Bukowski is too dark for 38 degrees and searing heat...but it turns out me and ol' Buk shared the same mood, and I found a friend in his words. Still, couldn't get this one line from Frank O'Hara out of my head...

if there is a place further from me
I beg you do not go

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