Self

IswearIamsosickofthisweek.

I have to complete an A4 etching for tomorrow, so that I can print. I'm almost done, but I'm uninspired. I'm bored of looking at myself (it's a self-portrait) and my hand is cramping and I'm stressed about my deadline. (Monday) Blegh. Moan moan moan.

A thought.

Karl Marx said that religion was the opiate of the masses...



dozers vs TV

...he hadn't seen anything. 

I am not a fatuous sunbeam.

It's time that I accept that.

Sally Mann - Found these images just by typing her name into Google, but here's some background.



Roger Ballen



Pathos



Take this advice...

Never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, never, ever, I repeat, never procrastinate on a History task until the day before it's due.

You have been warned.

Untitled

Stumbling blindly through the mist
I realised that the firs were weeping.
Silence reigned for a brief interlude. 
Silky nets caught the sky's fish
That glistened limply in the grey light.
The sun peeked vaguely through the dismal curtains
At the scrawny figures undressing 
For the dark night of WInter
As they tossed their garments
Of burnished brown and red
Carelessly to the cold callous tar below
Where I spied an empty shell.
A broken bird nestled 
With wings askew.
How I longed that I could fly...  
 

World of Two

I don't want to
Hear you whisper
I don't want to orbit
Your world of two

There's only room for you

In your world of two

I don't like to
Hang around you
I don't want to
Live in your world
Of two

There's only room for you

In your world of two

It's not that I don't like you
But it's not that I don't love you
It's not that I don't think you are
Two of the most
Perfectly
Beautiful
People in your world
In your world of two
There's only room for you
In your world of two
There's only room for you
In your world of two
In your world of two
There's only room
There's only room
There's only room
For you
- Cake

The Death of a Whale

When the mouse died, there was a sort of pity;
The tiny, delicate creature made for grief.
Yesterday, instead, the dead whale on the reef
Drew an excited multitude to the jetty.
How must a whale die to wring a tear?
Lugubrious death of a whale; the big
Feast for the gulls and sharks; the tug
Of the tide simulating life still there,

Until the air, polluted, swings this way
Like a door ajar from a slaughterhouse.
Pooh! pooh! spare us, give us the death of a mouse
By its tiny hole; not this in our lovely bay.
-- Sorry, we are, too, when a child dies:
But at the immolation of a race, who cries?

-John Blight



Cake

So, because my sister is kindofmaybeamazing, she's been planning my birthda cake for a year now... She made a five layer multi-coloured, multi-flavoured cake for me. I still feel really spoilt, even though it was a week ago. 

C quipped that my cake was on LSD, which made for major laughs and we were all pretty much blown away.  

Needless to say, we all felt pretty sick after the tea party, but it was fun going back in time, by playing the chocolate game and pass the parcel. 

 

Anyway, so now I am 17 and people keep on telling me that I'm old, which I'm not. At all. One is old when one has some wisdom that doesn't come from someone else's head and a face that's mapped by the journey that life has led the one on.  

While we're on the topic of Cake, I must just add a little rant about the band. I love John McCrea's monotonous wordplay. It becomes a little samey and perhaps a little irritating (I'm trying to avoid negative emotives here) after a while, but the lyrics are quirky enough to make up for this.Or maybe I'm just biased by my love for the trumpet...

 



For fear of being assasinated from 20 thousand miles away.

This is an update for the sake of being an update. I'm sorry that I have been neglectful over the past while, I have a life and whatnot. Needless to say, I have a couple of updates involving psychadelic cake and rambles into Cape Town art galleries lined up. Sound good?

Watch this space.