22 November 2006

One of these past couple of days, I've revamped my door. Ripping off scraps of magazines and newspaper cutouts of people, bands from waaaay back. I'm not saying who or which - it would forever demote the elevated standing I now hold in your eyes, and you would never look at me the same again. It's not so much that I've moved on, grown up, but maybe it's just a refinement of taste and preferences. Probably in the sense that you know yourself a whole lot better now than a few years back.

My room has been getting to become more and more of an oasis - the sights and sounds so comforting, special to you only in the way you know how. Being able to lie back and sleep, be dead to the world for that couple of hours. Awakening to a room flooded in brilliant sunlight, an intense blue sky, which always makes me feel like going for a swim. Or to the damp smell of rain, of earth, and the sky's coloured in my favourite shade. It's small stuff but it counts. I may look up at the sky and go, "Under this great expanse of sky, what could be going on right now, anywhere else?" But mostly, I just think, "Shit, it's another day of school...(or studying.)"

But anyway, the point is, my exams are in a few days' time, and I've barely studied. It's strange but I realise that any major changes/makeovers my room has received occur in the lead-up to my exams. When I'm supposed to sit down, pen in hand, and the notes are lying open, waiting to be ingested, digested in all their inviting, alluring glory, the potential for this side table to be shifted just there, for that vase to face the other direction instead suddenly seems immense. The mirror is looking kind of naked. Where are those wallpaper cutouts I know are lying around somewhere? This seersucker cloth, it would go brilliantly as a tablecloth!

So much as I love my room, and in loving it, love all of the changes, big and small which have made it what it is today, you could see it as a physical manifestation - evidence of my various failed attempts at studying.

And while we're at that, you can probably also include this entry as another manifestation of said failed attempts.

And if I go on to tell you about my current infactuation with Silversun Pickups and henceforth, plaster a video of their brilliant song "Kissing Families" which I can't get out of my mind in the space below, you would know exactly where I've been spending most of my waking hours these days. So I'm not doing that. But I hope the link would suffice.

12:37 AM;

20 November 2006

And when folk music breaks - when the lakesurface of song is interrupted by whirrs and skips and lonely echoes, - there's something there that's just between real and ghost.

(The lingering parts of life (i.e. the slippery parts) all seem to live in that inbetween place. Memory & longing & eros & home.)

Two songs as demonstrations, both exquisite:

[listen] Samamidon - "Falsehearted Chicken"

Samamidon is the collaboration of Sam Amidon, banjo-wrangler and sing-songer, and Doveman aka Thomas Bartlett, wurlitzer-drum-guitarer. Their record - due in February on Plug Research - is pretty fucking special. It's called But This Chicken Proved False Hearted. And of course this song is called "Falsehearted Chicken". Let's dismiss the obvious question of poultry: let's focus on the falseheartedness. Or perhaps the question of heartedness. A hundred and fifty years ago, Appalachian musicians discovered a particular quality of the banjo when accompanied by certain voices. Namely, it can capture nearly the entirety of the human experience. Within the past fifty years, composers have discovered a particular quality of ambient sounds and knockknockknocking. Namely, it can capture everything else. Here Amidon and Bartlett put the two together: it becomes a song of presence and absence, want and wish. Of promise, ok?, and you can hear how much the promise means.

It's beautiful.

(You can't buy it yet but you can listen to several more mp3s here.)


[from http://www.saidthegramophone.com/]

For all the times that I've had tears fall in the middle of the night listening to songs like these,
and the stirring in the heart I sometimes feel.
I often feel so inadequate in explaining why it could be so.
The passage above could not have put it in a more brilliant way.

12:12 PM;

17 November 2006

I was recently introduced to the label Stretsis in RUSSH magazine's article "Sisters doing it for themselves". Some googling threw these up...

I am absolutely loving these looks, particularly the one on the left.
That moss green coat, peter-pan collared blouse, lame shorts and leather satchel are divine!

Besides, how could you not love the equestrian theme running through the collection -
which, by the way, is titled "Flying Underground" and created by 3 sisters, the designer being Parsons-trained Pim Sukhahuta.

These are really pretty too. Kinda Anna Sui-, Betsey Johnson-esque...

All these lame and their whimsical equestrian prints! Ah, love!

And leaving you with a quote from the article:

"You can picture the Sretsis girl as the kind of femme who enjoys long walks
rather than going to the gym and drinks tea instead of coffee. She's absent
minded and quirky. Her hair might be a little unkept, her nails not
perfectly manicured, but she's always accessorised to perfection."

Awww, now doesn't that sound just like someone you know?

11:56 PM;

13 November 2006

When I go youtubing, I must watch these videos.
They make me feel like the world is gonna be alright.
That things will be just fine.
A warm, lulling sense of calm washes over my spirit and makes me smile.

And I think I might be in love with Karen O.

The Shins - New Slang (live)

Yeah Yeah Yeahs - Maps (acoustic)

1:17 AM;

11 November 2006

V for Vivocity

1:04 AM;

07 November 2006

Woke up this morning with the residue of a headache still throbbing away;
a tangled mess of hair smelling faintly of axe brand oil and sweat;
ice-cold fingers.

It was how I imagine Loneliness and Vulnerability to smell like.
Yet I felt warm and snug.

I didn't wash my hair today.

I'm a walking paradox in itself.

2:02 PM;

03 November 2006

When do you know that a trip down to IKEA for a cd rack is in order?

When retrieving a cd (in this instance, Elliot Smith's XO) felt like a game of UNO Stacko.

11:27 PM;

about me

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I lean my head slowly to the side, reflect on the camellia on the moss of the temple, reflect on a cup of tea, while outside the wind is rustling the foliage, the forward rush of life is crystallised in a brilliant jewel of a moment that knows neither plans nor future, human destiny is rescued from the pale succession of days, glows with light at last and, surpassing time, warms my tranquil heart.

- The Elegance of the Hedgehog,
Muriel Barbery


Tan Leather Chair

Nicely Skewed Charm


The Glass Pane

go fug yourself


Some Required

Style Bubble

The cherry blossom girl

The Unicorn Diaries

Fashion Pirates



Katy Elliott

A Bloomsbury Life

An Aesthete's Lament

notes by naive


daydream lily

Mori Girl



Windy Days

Flying Saucer

Style Sightings

The Sartorialist

Garance Dore

Face Hunter

Copenhagen Street Style

Glam Canyon

Stil in Berlin

Hel Looks

Her Famed Good Looks


Visual Dizziness

the skull set

You Aint No Picasso

Said the Gramophone





desire to inspire

The Selby

Cozy Little Whimsy Nook


Inside A Black Apple

My Folk Lover

Pink Bedroom


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