gratuitous picture of yourself on your first day of classes in another country, also wearing kitschy new sunglasses because the sun’s come out for once, also not wearing any pants

Last days in hipster cafes

I won’t see this lady again until next year and I don’t know what to say or think or do right now.

The only thing I know is this: at least we had one last day together with tea and friends and a collection of short stories & something about deer. The Lucksmiths’ last show, curled up on the couch counting the bones in your wrist, talking about their end and our future. Standing in the kitchen wrapped in the warmest hug saying nothing and meaning everything. Your perfume on my shirt. This is all we have left to us.

I may have spent twenty minutes this morning debating whether or not to wear the Genie Hat, as my workmate mockingly describes it. Then I realised he wouldn’t be in the office today, and it’s cold outside, and I need some sparkly in my life. Done.

Edit: Informed by text that it’s not the Genie Hat but the Dumbledore Hat, and it’s lame either way. He’s just jealous because it’s plush.

cankerbloxxom:

(via my flickr)

buyher tarty bloxxoms! <3

Oh man, you posted the booty shot! (And now my corner of the internet will see it, not just yours. Oh well, bless my winter tights for covering the necessities)

ninefruits:

Cass found something interesting under Dame Edna Everage’s dress.

 Who would have thought!

By the way, it’s been six months since we took this photo.

Figure A: high school sub-sub-posse 1.05

Sometimes I miss having a core group of friends where we’d do random shit together and like the same simple things and promise we’ll always be tight instead of getting distant and freezing everyone else out when we don’t fulfil each other’s emotional needs. But I’m not seventeen anymore, I don’t do the posse thing, and now that I think about it all my friends were misfits from different ‘groups’, so really we were halfway outcasts thrown into a sub-posse of sorts. At least now my friends are wonderfully diverse and discard any pretense of unity; the one thing we share in common is an incurable dislike of humanity — oh! when will young people learn — and unfortunately this includes most of my other friends whom they haven’t met, or have met and decided they just don’t jive together, you dig hep cat? (No, you retro dilettante.)

It means things like road trips and parties and even movie nights are pretty much out of the equation. Conversational invites go something like this: “Sure I’ll come to your charmingly quirky shindig, it’s just my cup of tea, who else is going? No one I know? Oh, just these people I do not approve of, or who make me feel inconsequential. So, no. But I’m sure we can catch up over dinner another time—” It is like herding cats together! At least you can pet felines, unlike humans who’ll get the wrong impression and won’t hiss or dig their claws in you (usually) but I hear there’s this thing called a restraining order. I’m pretty sure if I said “Right! So my farewell, in the event of my leaving the country and your lives for six months, has been cancelled because everyone was too precious to show up and partake in civilised discourse with strangers, fuck you all” they would reply in unison “At least I don’t have to talk to that bigot/broad [delete where appropriate], have a nice trip”. This is exactly what will happen, I am fairly certain.

But, you know, party anxieties aside, my sub-sub-posses kind of work for me. I have M1 as my go-to guy for gig company, and M2 for rhizomatic discussions on theory and fantasy fiction; K and E lure me into organic hippitude with apiculture tracts and chestnut soup and rhubarb tea. V burlesque dances, the CCC can do no wrong, CM crusades for human rights, D is a writing dynamo and jazz session musician and E reminds me to dream, but dream with purpose. Maybe they’ll never merge into a conglomerate of super-awesome sparkle! let me feed into your creative impulse every day type thing, but it still gives me the space to breathe and assimilate their fragmented influences into a self-shaped meatsack that I can drag around this world in search of something called coherence.

(Ruminations triggered by the retreat I’m going on tomorrow with uni sub-sub-posse 2.35: spec bro crew. They threatened to bring journals along so we can write about our feelings and share them in between drinking, baking, knitting, antiquing and wii-playing sessions. I thought I’d pre-empt them and float it on the internet first; let me insert a final ‘oh christ can you see how these dudes and the ladies pictured above would Just Not Get On?’ and leave it at that.)

the wall was there for a reason (behind the wall: a graveyard)

photos by circumnavigating

LOOK AT THIS NECKLACE HOW CAN YOU NOT GRIN LIKE A MOTHERFUCKER. I’ll admit that for all the wonders of today’s Surry Hills Festival (now with bonus titlepage) the main reason it caught my eye, apart from the fact that it only cost twelve dolla, was that one of the characters from Clueless wore the exact same necklace. How did I remember this while hurricane weather tore through the merchant stalls? I spent last night playing drinking games to this movie and The Little Mermaid (take a shot every time someone has an accident or falls over: OH SHIPWRECK). There may or may not be stuffed toy photos surfacing online that you wouldn’t want to show your mother; for a teddy bear’s picnic it quickly devolved into something obscene. Yeah, I’m a riot and a party rolled into one. Now this sexy beast is going to take her first shower in three days, oh yeah.

Is this thing on?

Oh my god you guys I am one classy lady

buyhercandy:

(via my flickr)

more expired film!

in which we (well, the boys) carry a couch 1.1km from one friend’s house to another friend’s house prior to a party.

buyhercandy:

In which Paddy, Cass and Nat point at the sliver of sky visible above Reiby Place whilst at Laneway.

okayjokesover:

irl photo reblog (now with added dan boud)!!!