Friday, July 30, 2010


Inspired by John Lennon's Rolls Royce, Parnassus and dA s1xt33z, I've FINAAALY finished customizing my brand new Topshop backpack (eek!) just in time for Alicante, which I'm leaving for in a few hours. :)
The challenges so far for the two weeks? Skinny dip, try rum, mojito, rolled up cigarettes, have ice cream on the beach at night, facedown the shit outa the place, make a tan shape by strategically shaping sun cream, flirt in spanish, get a henna tattoo of the deathly hallows symbol (thanks, Marianne), go to xococoa as much as possible, seduce Jess in the style of House & Cuddy in last season's finale, kiss a spaniard, have coffee after a hangover and make sick jokes to new people to see if they're cool or not. OH and learn some spanish if there's time.
But anygay, back to the before und after photos.

TA-DAAH! Used the Beatles lyrics The End, Strawberry Fields Forever and Come Together ("he shoot coca-cola", GEDDIT?) plus Paul McCartney's Let Me Roll It ("You gave my loving in the palm of my hand.."). Very happy with how it turned out given that it really could have been a disaster..still don't know what the knife and fork is about buut..artisitic licence?

So it's adios for three weeks probably as the day after I volver from Alicante, I'm off to Kerry. Woah hello there anticlimax! But it only encourages me to do as much as possible now so I'll soon need a detox. Hasta luego, I plan on doing a returning post and Lolita post when I'm make where wi-fi exsists. Oh and Happy Birthday Harry Potter! Did you think I'd forget or something? Tsshyeah!

Over and Out. ♥♥♥

Friday, July 23, 2010


What does it mean to feel bad about yourself?
Having low self esteem, getting far too tangled in your own negative thoughts 'till they develope into an emotional tornado, having an actual problem so big that you dont want to live to see another happy moment, not believing in that next happy moment , or 99% of the time: being ignorantly oblivious to all we have.

Even from the birds eye view I appear to have of this infectious illness, I cannot make head nor tail of it. After all, it is not something that can be cured by explaination, it's an uncontrolable weight that needs to defuse over time, until at last I can smile again, knowing that there is chocolate at the end of every cornetto (the light in the tunnel phrase never really appealed to me as much as ice-cream did).

So, why all the chocophilosophy you ask? Recently, by means of bad judgement and general teenage all-over-the-placeness, I managed to lose the trust of the most important people in my life. With these people being my only tictacs in previous events, and I being the only reason for our deterierating relationship, I hit an all time low.

Luckily, time did what it does best, goes the f*** on. It always reminds me of those who felt as bad as I did and didnt allow time to do its thing. So basically, just let it, kay? Ironically, I'm now running out of it and must wrap up this hopefully thought provoking blabber...


Tuesday, July 20, 2010

The False Four

So we had an intriguing and nostalgic evening a few fridays ago...

I spent the preceding week listening to nothing but Beatles albums and psyching myself up to ensure I got my €35 worth. I had a huge claw in my head for the gig. And it was awesome.

I consider myself insanely privileged to have seen 25% of the Beatles mere metres away from me, but obviously it's regrettable at times leading a life of such adoration without actually being able to see the people who have so affected me do what they did best. The Bootleg Beatles basically see people like me as walking dollar signs.

It wasn't quite what I thought it would be. First of all, the venue reminded me quite specifically of a ruined jail. And it was so small, secure and serene. I had been hoping, perhaps naively so, for some gen-yee-ine Beatlemania, and I just got asked my surname and whether had alcohol in my tiny bag. The support band, David whatshisface and what presumably were his 'Henchmen' came on and did their bluesy set, and then some familiar and distinctly teenage screams came form the speakers. They weren't blasted or anything, they were just like a muffled version of what I listen to on my recordings of Beatles concerts. So yeah, the atmosphere was interesting... Then the band came out, and I remained seated. For a brief moment I thought 'Is there really a point to this?' Yeah, they look like them, they sound like them, but part of me felt like this was blasphemy. Anywho, a couple of seconds in I was overcome with the urge to show my beehive off and I joined the two mad wans who were standing at the side of the seated crowd. Thankfully there were plenty other people dressed like hippies recapturing their youth, or, if they were from Ireland, probably re-writing it. Everyone was kind of awkwardly dancing, and the sun was kind of shining.

And then the band started talking in Liverpudlian accents, which I hadn't anticipated. Their mannerisms and expressions were absolutely perfect. It was incredible to hear my favourite songs live! And most importantly we got to show all the people over 40 that we knew the lyrics better than them. George kept imploring the crowd to start dancing, and by the time the band had changed into their Abbey Road gear, most people were on their feet. Those guys seriously deserve to be knighted or summat. Funniest Beatle-wife references EVER 2KX. Also, I hadn't listened to Hey Jude the whole way through since PAUL MCCARTNEY SANG IT FOR ME. So that was nice. I couldn't even look at the Paul dude in the eye even though we were like 6 feet away from him. Imagine staring at the real Macca! You'd have to flush your eyes with holy water or something...

To be honest, I've scoffed at many a tribute band in my time. I would not pay to see a random band pretend to be one of my favourite groups...but I think in this case it is perfectly justifiable. The Beatles' music is so special that I think it should not only be listened to and appreciated on records but enjoyed live! But more than that, I think that their spirit and personalities are more in danger of being forgotten. After all, the group stopped performing before [arguably] their finest music was made. And their performances were so natural and fun, which was conveyed so well by these guys. Even though they know as well as we do it's mainly about fun and paying homage, it's definitely entertaining and so worthwhile. Maybe it's silly if you think about four grown men in fancy dress covering songs and imitating accents, but to me, they are preserving something an important memory. It's history! However much anyone can dislike the Beatles and their music, their significance in music and in popular culture is indisputable. They were daring and innovative. They are an institution. Just witnessing this small-scale representation of their transformation and growth over a decade puts a lot in perspective for me as a Beatles fan. The sheer variety of their music amazes me. That's why you can do a fricking degree in The Beatles. I hope that seeing this band is on the syllabus for that.


Sunday, July 11, 2010

I've just seen a face, I can't forget the time or place.

*trumpet sound* SWITZERLAND WAS CLASS. I had planned on writing a post on how insane the art was, or how the architecture and make-up of the place was terrifyingly/brilliantly like a more beautiful Brazil, or even the incredible, all-you-can-eat chocolate factory in Lausanne. But all that was before I saw this walking (or should that be sitting?) monochrome blob of INNOVATION.
This happened when we went out to a beer garden in Zurich one night and I happened to look over at the table about three metres away from us. I know how stalker-y that sounds but it really was a (totally platonic) Lolita Moment. I'm not going to upload the photo that I forced my mom at bread-knifepoint to take, because a)It just doesn't sum it all up and b)Within three weeks, I WILL be a mirror image of this man.
I'm not sure what age he was..maybe mid-sixties and looked exactly like Vincent Van Gogh except smilier, with short white hair and beard & brownish-french skin. I should probably point out now before the gushing starts that I was purely interested in his clothes for the clothes themselves and not from a That Shirt Would Look Better On My Floor viewpoint. How eloquent I am!
Basically, the outfit he was wearing just..redefined EVERYTHING for me about the makeup of Style itself. Without making a statement and without being visually radical or futuristicly original in the colour or cut. And even though it was just a short-sleeved shirt, trousers in the same pattern and leather sandals, I have never in my life of scrutinizing fashion in magazines, blogs, films, music, seen anyone wear clothes like that. In other words, it was mind-blowingly original without being Lady GaGa or like, Isabella Blow.
Plus the elusive thing about it is that it wasn't depicting a named style or era, but instead it was as if he was literally draping his personality over himself in a display of indescribable self-expression. But this form was just a bi-product of his own sphere of identity and complexion and that he had just happened to be using the medium of clothes.
I suppose you could call the whole ensemble bohemian, but it's difficult to put a label on it, just as it's difficult to put labels on people's diverse personalities, unless they obviously fit into a box. An emo box, that is. Really it was a uniform, a way of portaying your own character in a very new & subtle way, like Edie Sedgwick or Margaret Tenenbaum.
Maybe the only way the science behind your personal uniform can be summed up is by Coco Chanel:
"Fashion is in the sky, in the street, fashion has to do with ideas, the way we live, what's happening".
So what this all comes down to? A total shtyle re-think. BYE BYE 60s.


Thursday, July 8, 2010

I'd rather have a bottle in front of me than a frontal lobotomy.

My favourite scene from Edie Sedgwick's Poor Little Rich Girl. Just LOOK at the expressions..


"For me it's all about juxtaposition.."

It's was raining from the first
And I was dying there of thirst
So I came in here..
And your long-time curse hurts
but what's worse is this pain in here,
I can't stay in here.
Ain't it clear that I just can't fit?
Yes, I believe it's time for us to quit..
But when we meet again, Introduced as friends,
Please don't let on that you knew me when..
I was hungry and it was your world thenn..