sublime, a true study in weightlessness.

always take note of deconstruction and silhouette, ensure to stay refined
self-muse, astrid, lady di(e),
novel/novella/novelty



image via

image via



...and just for good measure:

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a powerful love, a force from above.

i don't doubt that many will have already seen/read this on a fairly renowned blog recently, but for those who have not..:

and i'm not in any way shape or form trying to fashion-bash, but i do think that some pretty great points have been raised in a small amount of words:

"It's always a bit discombobulating when people raise their voices in anger because they've gotten wind that designers are making and selling $25,000 dresses. After all, it's not as if the existence of a dress that costs as much as a car negates the availability of cute $25 frocks at Target. And it isn't as though edicts have been issued that all women must now dress like one of the superheroes on Balenciaga's runway.

For personal and sometimes tortured reasons -- I can't have it so no one else can! -- observers declare that they just don't understand the attraction of these strange and expensive clothes. That would be a fair argument if those same complainers lashed out at people who spend thousands of dollars on Redskins season tickets, vintage wines, first-edition books or midlife-crisis cars. But those industries don't stir nearly as much ire from people who are uninterested in them.

Everyone has a passion that is lost on others."

(Robin Givhan - The Washington Post, October 18th.)

thanks arrie-sahn.

natalie portman's shaved head

i've been really getting into Paul Kelly and at jono's request: a Cat Stevens cassette i found in my room. really enjoying both. they're really good to study to. Paul reminds me a teenie tinie bit of Crowded House for some reason.
i want to start listening to more Bob Dylan and some more stuff from the ~60s, but cant be arsed to download right now. i think i'm really just going to wait til next year and rely on the file-sharing network at whichever uni i end up at.



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like so many other novel inventions - the internet, amphetamines, the atomic bomb - sunglasses were born of war. well..this is not entirely true. like the others, what really happened was they were invented for other purposes and then got their 'big break', as they say, because of their capacity to aid in combat. the internet helped share military intelligence (mostly on atomic bombs, ironically), amphetamines helped keep the soldiers awake, and the bomb, well, we all know how that story goes..

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crackling static sounds overwhelm you. you're in a future world, a dark and crowded place, chasing a giant - or is it chasing you ? a cyber adventure, a sensory overload. this is a comic book experience you've never had before.

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this week i'm really dreaming about Buderim again (or am i ?) - which means i would have to really soon-ly look into a residence of sorts if i went to USC. it's scary, i really want to be on college first year out..and at least for a year. but if i head out to Sippy Downs..i won't know one person.
but, i think also that that fear is kind of exciting. i could be aaanyone - not that i plan to change so much, well not consciously, but imagine. fresh.



i really feel like going op-shopping and this crave ALWAYS sets in on a sunday. i haven't been in..probably 4-5 months, if not more. feels like really really ages, but i just haven't been feeling in the mood for it for a long time, and a lot has been going on that has either restricted me time/money-wise.
i'm a bit dollar-less right now, and i went into Portmans the other day, only to find about $1500 worth of things that i didn't like but really LOVED. rare.
like, i'm really wanting just a plain pair of small-framed black sunglasses. they're so flexible; black would be so much more multi-purpose than the patterned/transparent pairs i sport now.

i really want a pair or five of black (i think ?, well at this stage) pleated/non-pleated pants that can be/are cropped just above the ankle. they fit so loosely but snugly in the pictures that i've been hounding for months. porties had a pair just like that, i think. but right now i CANNOT afford 100+ for anything like that :(..so cue: endos/lizline.
a little like these, but with cuffs at the bottom..
or some identical to this pair would surely not go astray at all.
unfortunately, though, i dont know if they would look ok with out heels..and if they look shabbitha without some elevation - than they would go to waste in my lifestyle.

there were a thou little black dresses - not excruiatingly short (from what i could tell, i didnt try anything on because i dont plan on having to sew my tear ducts shut any time soon) and all with just the right amnt of embellishment - like a single ruffled sleeve, or some puffed action on either side or or or just what i want in life right now.
there was lots of pastels and sheer, which i thought i would be sick of right now..but nope.
lots of (fake - i did the scratch test, hehe) pearls in just the right, minimalistic quantities.
blazers that weren't too structured/square; and made out of soft fabrics that i can only imagine would sit nice and a little loosely, but still formally

but ohh it was just everything in abundance that i've been trying to find for a lot of months. bug-ah.

so therefore i want to find a great deal of these finds in a thrift outlet-o in this town quiiite remarkably soon. perhaps before the art exhibition's -grand- opening thursday night ?
i guess i could sew all of the above - with all the skill/time/dollars i have.



and and and im really enjoying cropped/cuffed shorts - i guess a liiitle bit like the bottom-haff of this get-up (but not really at all) - teamed with patent nude heels. yummo.
(neither of which i own ? - better get to it.) ive been actually finding a whole heap of patent nude heels in mackay in the last week or two - like in 2-3 shops, which has really excited/surprised me. i've been searching for a pair for at least a year now, since i first saw a picture in one of the cheesie magazines at work featuring vickbeck and katie holmes shoe shopping, and one of them i think was either wearing a pair or trying them on.
many of the pairs that i have recently come across have been well over the budget, but whatever. im worried they'll get really scuffed if i do invest in a pair for formal/grad etc (im going to be well and truly shoe-pooling), like my mocktail pair did..but maybe if im extra-careful, i'll get by relatively unscathed ?

i'm also on the semi-search for something a bit obnoxious in size but also pretty feminine and formal for Prom to whack in my hair. all ive found are flowers and im not too sure, i feel like theyve been done so much before - but i guess it would be a safe option. any ideas ?

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images via

art music, metamorphasis, soldier on, straight-jacket, no vowels

yuck yeah, francesca

(i wrote this for English at the end of last term.
there's bits i like, bits i don't like. it was veerrry last minute, like literally half a week before it was due because so much was going on academically at that time. it was sposed to be a modernised version of Macbeth. mine was set in a concentration camp. on the most part, its embarrassingly over-descriptive. like 'hi, i like creative writiiing guyz, its a hobbie of mine, i've never read a book in my life but im going to use the word 'however' as many times as i can in a single paragraph.' or maybe not like that at all.. you decide.
i hate the way i made it end so abruptly because i got lazy and idea-less.
AND i know it's looong but that's to be expected of me nowadays, i think ? i know i'm a waffle. but i like waffles. they're great with syrup.)

'Incineration of the Human Conscience: Macbeth modernised.'

Overhead, three vultures circle. Their keen eyes search the sea of emaciated bodies for their next meal. They don’t notice that we exist down here, or that we continue to live; to survive, from sunrise to sunset, though all the while showing no real signs of life. We are the dead - herded like animals, void of all rights and dignity that would allow us any opportunity of communication or exterior emotion. Just as birds flock elsewhere in the colder months, in search of nourishment and shelter; an escape, we travel together in an exhausted mass in desperate hope of a slight improvement of where we are now – Mauthausen concentration camp.

One of the scavengers released a rasping screech - in doing so breaking the aching silence for a fragment of a second. As vultures, they are the scum of the sky. Here as Jews, albeit humans, we are the scum of the Earth.

Our heads remain obediently bowed, our shoulders collectively slumped. We shuffle uniformly, in single file, day after day after repetitive, melancholic day. We are always being watched; always seen through the scrutinising eyes of the authorities, but not once are we ever heard.
The cold is so stifling that all the brain can concentrate on is the slow, steady trudging of the skeletal excuses for legs in front. Not a single foot is stepped out of line on either side. There is no forgiveness for error here, you learn quickly.

To the side of the front of the food line a comparatively less-gaunt figure can be seen. Although more or less physically alone in his stance, the man’s self-conscious dependence upon and admiration of his superiors is demonstrated quite plainly, although non-verbally. He can be seen with arms crossed, mimicking the other three guards in child-like search of approval or recognition as they intrude upon his shadow, apathetic dispositions in tow. Sporting a red cap, he is stuck in an awkward limbo between camp prisoner and camp authority. He wears the same uniform as the rest of us, but is not one of us. His similarly bald head is covered instead with a few scraps of red fabric that have been roughly sewn together into the shape of a cap.

A red cap is more or less royalty. It signifies a little extra food, a thicker blanket and indifference from the guards. Indifference is a blessing, as in this case, camouflage is synonymous with a longer life expectancy. Within the first few months of the camp’s existence, the more fit of the male workers were given a red cap and a sense of duty. They had been given the role of guard’s assistant – they tell the authorities of any thefts or traitorous activity that takes place behind closed doors.
The red target that was central in my sights this morning belonged to 70-odd-year-old Duncan, and I wanted in.

My envious thought processes were broken as I found myself on the receiving end of a tired nudge in the ribs from what is now my brother’s painfully skeletal elbow. I would have groaned had the cold not blocked out all of my physical senses weeks ago.
In my direction he hissed, ‘Michael, you’re staring at Duncan again…you know that cap’s got your name written all over it.’
I knew he was right in one respect. Partially, I wanted the cap and the extra food, without doubt, but was not about to forcefully remove the position from anyone. If anything, this camp has shown me that out of all of the combinations of emotions on Earth, that without compassion and companionship, no person or difficult circumstance can be conquered or indeed even endured.

I studied the inside of my eyelids for a minute before further diverting my attention to the growing and gaping hole in the front of my faded cotton shirt. I pulled at a loose thread until the worn opening had almost doubled in size. Being agonizingly close to succeeding in wholly distracting myself momentarily, I irritatingly found myself only to be tugged from my thoughts for a second time.

In an impatient and whispered tone I heard the words,
‘Come on, he’s not even good at what he does. I know you’re tired of barely scraping through survival on this slop, we all are. Think of the extra food you could be getting with that cap. He’s a liar, Mike, he’s a danger to all of us. We can get rid of him easily.’
I shook my head, though in partial defeat, with my eyes once more focussed steadfastly straight ahead. I noticed that the line for food was growing progressively shorter, as was my struggling resistance.

As the sun reached the horizon we retired to our icy wooden bunks for another uncomfortable night of unrest. We were retiring once more, but as brothers; as people with names, rather than numbers. For the entirety of the evening no crack in the wall, splinter in the bed or fleeting draught of wind went unnoticed. My eyes didn’t shut for a second all night. Instead, they incessantly flicked around the room, for the constant and choking fear that my thinking would become verbal as I continuously deliberated and tore my morals apart over Ben’s words and the possibility of Duncan’s position soon becoming solely and rightfully mine.

While lining up for the morning soup ration, Duncan’s cap appeared to be redder than ever; the fabric darkened to a deep crimson of blood. His usual stone-faced expression of authority had transformed instead to a taunting and smug smirk. As I approached him in the line, an overpowering smell of human death arose from nearby brick towers in the form of stiflingly thick black smoke. The dawn seemed to be entirely without noise other than knives being sharpened against each other at the food stand, while a quiet, more distant chugging noise could be heard from two steam trains in the distance. It was a recognized realisation that both trains were headed directly to Auschwitz death camp.
It seemed that even the vultures understood the fight against fate of the red –donned figure on that morning. The ravenous birds circled a few times but never once swooped down, as they had every day previously.

Upon reaching the soup-laden guard I veered a sharp left, directly into the sights of the other who stood at that stage unoccupied, arms crossed, on casual but sharp surveillance. I tipped him off in hushed and hurried tones about Duncan’s ‘theft’ of food. While in full awareness that it was in actual fact his colleague’s wrongdoing, I could see the sentry’s ears prick up within seconds. He nodded, while his eyes visibly widened with surprise; darting around in both confusion and perhaps betrayal.

Upon returning silently into the line once more, I felt another friendlier shove to the ribs, although in this instance no words were exchanged. A slight nod signalled my brother’s approval, fully aware that the deed was indeed done.
There was rewarding for acts like that of my own, regardless of red cap or not. I knew that Duncan’s position would so soon be mine, and fairly so.

The following morning was as anticipatory as the previous, if not more. At daybreak, I was handed a small pouch along with my soup bowl. Its contents were expectantly no more than a small scrap of now-faded red fabric that had a short brim at one end.
The thrill from adrenaline and newly-obtained self-satisfaction that filled my mind and body within that instant temporarily liberated all discomfort that I had been feeling as a result of the frozen winter air.

The arrival of the cap into my awaiting hands had simultaneously marked the disappearance of Duncan from Mauthausen camp. I could only assume the worst; that his faux act of theft had resulted in the grey-haired, ex-guard’s assistant being sent on a direct route to Auschwitz.

As days passed, I came to realise through my newly promoted social rank that not even a prolonged stint in a concentration camp can do a lot to suppress the individual ambition that can be found within all conscious beings – whether being victorious in a metaphorical arm-wrestle with mortality or not. As my brother grew ever more bitter with the passing of each day, his words became to be all but generated with a supportive or compassionate motive. His actions seemed to become increasingly colder, as did the temperatures outside. Contrastingly, outside of Mauthausen the war grew hotter; its unrelenting grasp on our throats slowly but surely tightening. Prisoners started dropping like flies as the smoke that rose from the chimneys grew fatally thicker as a result.

I found myself cold and alone. Without the comradeship of my brother I became quite literally just another number on the long list of death-assured Jews. In my position of solitude and social isolation, the vultures were my only companions. They were without guilt or moral conscience, seemingly appearing then disappearing at their own free will – the perfect disposable partners in crime.
Without a real reason to continue living as well as not having the fortunate gift of flight like my new-found feathered friends, I found myself digging a mentally-draining hole that felt to be kilometres deep. It became difficult to find things that were worth greeting each breaking day for. My existence had been solely and wholly reduced to the simple repetition of breathing in and out, with my eyes constantly darting left, then right.
The extra food was so insignificant an increase that I noticed no difference in my physical health; my ribs still jutted out at an angle that no longer seemed alarming to my eyes.

The satisfaction that I had once held quickly approached guilt while the empathy and fairness that I had prided myself on within my red-capped role of responsibility in the past, dwindled, and soon became overridden with an abusive lust for power.
Friendship and equality turned to words that I had, either subconsciously or consciously, wiped from my vocabulary as well as from all mental thought and processes.

Again, my sight appeared to alter on a remarkable level; mirroring my thoughts almost identically. My cap drooped and sagged at the edges, as if others were always trying to pull it off my head and from my grasp completely. Its colour returned to a shade of stale blood…my blood…Duncan’s blood. Ben’s sneering eyes undeniably understood more than they let on, and I felt his stare burning a deep and dark hole into the back of my crimson headwear whenever he was reduced to a hazy image at the very edge of my peripherals.

I heard whispers, which caused me to don my cap protectively, even in my sleep. I slept lightly or not at all, panic taking over every physical sense that existed in my body.
‘Michael murders sleep, Michael murders sleep, Michael murders sleep’, I heard the wind howl through the worn, wooden rafters at night.

Faces in the mass of Jews appeared to sprout grey hair or a rugged moustache, just as Duncan’s had been. Backs grew hunched and towering, similar to Ben’s.

No corner could I turn without the sight of looming smoke from human death. It overwhelmed me entirely, weighing down my tired lungs with every waking moment of its constricting embrace. Paranoia was not an obsession or irrational disorder of mine, but a form of safety; a comfortable blanket of peace.

After weeks of distress along with a zombie-like gait, I fell; simultaneously both mentally and physically. Ben, soon after, disappeared on a train to nowhere.

If anything, this camp has shown me that out of all of the combinations of emotions on Earth, that without compassion and companionship, no person or difficult circumstance can be conquered or indeed even endured.

'i want to be a machine', said andy

warhol.

1. i aim to achieve that healthy balance between caring and not-caring (what others think). i think i'm really getting close, and it's a great feeling.
of course, you've got to keep the self-respect of Number One in-tact/order and at the top of the importance ladder, bc i don't think it's v good or healthy for anyone to compleeetely discard what others think..
(and most of the time, anyway, those who say that they strictly 'don't care what anyone thinks at all' are the ones who are most self-conscious. i find that really sad - the fact that certain people feel that they have to be so transparent and go to such defensive (wrong word, help me out ?) lengths just to reassure themselves..)
tame the shame and win the game !

and i've seen far too clearly - and ish even at times felt it myself, personally, - how damaging it can be to live your life by the idea/l/s of others only and of ~ society in general. some people are really really far too flexible, and live these fragile little breakable lives bc they strain for its entirety in trying to crack the barrier of the super high expectations of others..

i mean, come on..it's so far from worth it.

2. i'm really starting to appreciate this/the? mutual understanding of similar humour and general life views that offspring/s of teachers just seem to somehow collectively share. im beginning to become more observant toward a little unspoken bond via an unofficial Humour Appreciation Society or something similar that appears to be in awesome existance..its kind of like one of the rare good-qwol facebook groups that are stumbled upon every so often (but instead, of course, in person)..and i bloody love it, haha. i'm becoming more and more pro-teacher parents as the days pass..somewhat secretly. and i think that (secretly) my fellow teacher-kids/z out there are aswell. hellz YEAH edu.

3. lately i've been trying to get my head around how people can think that intelligence can be so easily measured..whether it be through a state-wide set QCS-like test or even just from conversation with someone - over time, or at initial acquaintance.
i don't know if you're born with 'intelligence' or if its a skin that can be grown into. i don't know how to measure or to really even understand this thing, and i try not to judge others at all on things like school grades or the vocab that they choose to use - it stretches so far beyond that, i think.

what i also do think, sortofmaybz, is that reading is one of the best things that can be done to uppen (?) this so-called knowledge.
a really good friend of my family that i got to know pretty fantastically well in the last couple of years had made it past what i have gathered to be his 80s or 90s. i found out after he left us that he had always wanted to be a doctor but didn't have the funds for that sort of job when he was younger. it broke my heart to find that out, because i thought he would have been perfect for the job - personality/intelligence-wise. i don't think that he had had as lengthy/in-depth an edu as most of us these days, and mainly just due to circumstance and general society/wealth back in his prime. bc of this, it had always surprised me that he seemed to always know so much about the world, and was just super observant/knowledgable.

i guess where i'm going with this is, that i think that reading as much as possible is what gives you the obvious broader vocab and that sort of thing, which in turn seems to also provide such a massive/huge-r/greater understanding of the world than that of someone who does not read much/at all.
this man-friend read on an emulate-able level. he was old and his sight was fading, or had indeed faded a fair chunk as it was, and even though he required something like a magnifying glass at one point, he still read. he did sudoku and puzzles similar to keep his mind whirring. when he grew too tired after reading for even fairly short spans of time, and/or had lost his sight even further, he listened to audio books. i find that so fantastic. a lot of people reach that age and sort of give up on learning. they sit and don't want to accept that the world is going to, and is, changing so much around them. they don't want to learn or to expand their knowledge - but he did. he kept going and going and going, and i loved him for it.

one set of audios that he particularly referenced to a lot was a set that a relative or close friend had told him about. it was a collection of semi-life philosophies involving a whole heap of different people who were of different ages and lifestyles. for eg., one person believed in barbecues. they believed that life should always involve them..because of the social side of things; they bring people together, they're places of happiness and of optimism - and often even celebration.
another believed in high-heels..because they accentuate a woman's feminine form, boost the self-esteem and empower the wearer.

you've really got to take in little lessons like this from other people around you when given the chance - emulate the ones you love !

i just love everything about reading - even the v idea of it. it makes you less naive, and more open-minded to the ideas of others and of the way that other people live their lives. and i think that's so so important - especially in today's society. its not even a matter of interest anymore; its just that you will not survive if you sit around and do not absorb what is going on around you/us.

i guess, mostly, literature and even news is so great bc it puts your feet on the ground. it makes you aware that you are a tiny speck in a giant's eye in the whole scheme of things. i'm not even sure if that's intimidating or scary, or a good thing.

there's a quote by eva mendes, of all people, that i really like. i can't rememeber it directly, i have it saved in my ipod upstairs..but it goes something like the following:
'the most sexual organ is the brain.. you don't have to be a scholar, just curious about the world.'
i really like the end part, especially. its something i mentally refer to often, i think its an important point to think about.

4. artificial intelligence is amazing. i don't know so much about it, but i think paul dempsey initally spurred my thoughts toward the topic. in qcs, the theme for our unseen written task turned out to be time, and one of the snippets of stimulus involved the turning back of time - and the sort of skin/physical rejuvanation that's getting around more and more as the years tick by. i had wanted to some how tie in artificial intell into that, but struggled and ended up sadly changing tact a little/lot.
in an interview, paul was talking about his song Ramona Was a Waitress - which speaks about artie intie a fair bit..a little cryptically if youre not entirely switched on to its topic or aware of his referencing.:

in his own words:
'it's about a guy arguing with an artificial-intelligent robot waitress about mortality..artificial intelligence and conscious robots arguing about the meaning of life.'
the name Ramona comes from a man by the name Ray Kurtzweil who is one of the foremost thinkers on artificial intelligence and what the future holds for technology. he has created a program called Ramona that's like an interactive person, and, as technology progresses, he's trying to build her up so she becomes more and more sophisticated in the hope that one day she will be essentially conscious.
'that's the point he's trying to make, that at some point in the future technology will be arguably conscious.
this guy Ray Kurzweil also goes on about how with the use of emerging technologies like nanotechnologies and stuff like that, human beings will be able to augment themselves and improve themselves to reverse the aging process. we will essentially merge with machines and will be able to prolong our life spans almost indefinitely. so the Ramona character in the song is sort of this trans-human woman who lives almost indefinitely. i thought it would be kind of funny if you were in that position but you were a waitress. i just wanted to make it something banal. this fascinating amazing idea of this potentially immortal artificial intelligence that can augment itself and improve itself and exist for however long..' but she's still just a waitress, you know ? like youre this super-human and yes you have endless life..but youre only a waitress. i found that such a funny little situation..really interesting.
'But life is still life and you still have to do something with life.'

some of my more favoured lyrics from the above:
she circles past, she fills your glass, but she don't recognise the song.
and once in a life time, she says..the waking life stitched together in your head.
and i don't need these arms anymore, i dont need this heart now to love.
i don't need this skin and bone at all.
and eyes like crystal balls that just won't shut up about the future of the future.
ramona was a waitress; all but made of information.
in a bar under the third bridge, she says she's looking forward to living forever.
(okay so that's actually most of the song, but but but..)

a funny little tweet that pd had sent during the making of the film clip for that song:
shooting video for ramona....size 13 dancing shoes on....understandably there is a lot of fear in the room.
;)

5. just when you think there are no new stories to be told, a new one manages to come along.

6. well i am the shape of a lonely soldier, oh, I am the shape of a single structure.
but even the bravest Lions, they need a sidekick.
i know that even the tallest kings, they need a sidekick.
everyone needs a Robin, no ?

7. a fair while ago now, there was an epic storyline for a dance on So You Think You Can Dance.
the moves and costumes etc on their own were pretty ordinary, but it was all about a man who was the last left on earth and an alien had come down to impregnate itself/or actually, maybe to do so to the human?. on 2nd thoughts, im not even sure who was doing what in that sitch haha but i thought it was so awesomely original. as if you'd even come up with that, ever. haha.

8. the Stromatolites in WA, i just rememebered them after having a dream the other night that they got all flooded over and lost forever. i was actually really really sad about that - theyre one of the oldest living things..on the whole earth.
my fam visited them in i think about 2000. even then i was amazed.
google them, theyre really ugly :).



again = length/uber punctuated. of course.

if the fact that my blemish cream went O.O.D. in '06 doesn't result in 7th degree burns, i'll be mildly satisfied with life

some words i've been enjoying lately:

- women are the only oppressed group in our society that lives in intimate association with their oppressors.

- make the most of every day.

- don't ever tell anybody anything. if you do, you start missing everybody.

- the sun will rise..even if you don't happen to be there.

- sometimes it takes the worst to see people at their best.

- sorting things out isn't always easy.

- i sat there for some time, a man with more on his mind than in it.

- you're gonna make mistakes; you're young.

- obviously when the sun comes out, every bastard has a festival.