El Joyero- XOZ

Lovely Day For A Tan

My oh my, what have we got here?

Some photos from a recent photography project.

A David Attenborough docco graced my tv screen today as did the vicious and vile images of meat eaters and their hunting ways.

The thing that stuck in my mind the most is the way wild dogs bare their teeth, into an overwhelming smile when chasing their prey, even tho it may be due to the forcefull winds its scarring none the less.

"Shoot him, Shoot the dead!"

"Whats left of me is not scared of lead"

Groovin.

Hit me where it hurt, the heart the heart.

Yesterday I went to Bendigo for the Groovin The Moo festival and boy did I groove that moo. Van Shee Ratatat and De La Soul were the stand out each beat they beat reverbarated in my heart-atatatata

Feast your eyes on the few photos I managed to take...

IT is growing on me.

Im ever-so-slightly addicted to the young ones.

"I WOULDNT EVEN DISCUSS THE COLOUR OF ORANGE JUICE WITH YOU NEIL!"

Recently, after a particular politcs SAC I did not go to readings and get engrossed in a book. Infact i walked about my neighbourhood and took some snappy haps. HAPPY SNAPS*

i ran

My bed for the last two nights.

A. Tennyson

ALL THINGS MUST DIE
A. Tennyson

Clearly the blue river chimes in its flowing
Under my eye;
Warmly and broadly the south winds are blowing
Over the sky.
One after another the white clouds are fleeting;
Every heart this May morning in joyance is beating
Full merrily;
Yet all things must die.
The stream will cease to flow;
The wind will cease to blow;
The clouds will cease to fleet;
The heart will cease to beat;
For all things must die.
All things must die.
Spring will come never more.
O, vanity!
Death waits at the door.
See! our friends are all forsaking
The wine and the merrymaking.
We are call’d–we must go.
Laid low, very low,

In the dark we must lie.
The merry glees are still;
The voice of the bird
Shall no more be heard,
Nor the wind on the hill.
O, misery!
Hark! death is calling
While I speak to ye,
The jaw is falling,
The red cheek paling,
The strong limbs failing;
Ice with the warm blood mixing;
The eyeballs fixing.
Nine times goes the passing bell:
Ye merry souls, farewell.
The old earth

Had a birth,
As all men know,Long ago.
And the old earth must die.
So let the warm winds range,
And the blue wave beat the shore;
For even and morn
Ye will never see
Thro’ eternity.
All things were born.
Ye will come never more,
For all things must die.

Finally i found my favourite poem. Walking in and out of shops with a newly found friend i was reminded of this poem, looking back at it now i can definatly say that it means so much more than it ever has.
Lately ive come to many realizations regarding life death destiny fate and the people in my life...

To my Beatroot, your the sweetest, since my move your the closest ive stayed to anyone.
To Mr Bean, your keeping me sane.
To My Italian Stalion, i miss you and admire your strength.
To Haybail, your going to go far kidd.
To Ye Old Colledge Girls, times were good, but this change is the best.
To My Fellow Swines, bring on these next two years.