wish upon

I believe in magic, I really do.

In the past three days my wishes have been granted. I found a pair of high wasted denim shorts for 5 shmokin' bucks and a black pair of Doctor M's for ta-wenty dollars.

Has proven to be a fantastical week and to top it off im going to stay at a farm on the coast, sand, surf, cows and horses babayyyy.

habitats [reel of film 2]

respect?

Well well well, some smart arse tagger has stabbed me right in the heart.

Banksy, an extremely well known stencil artist graced inner Melbourne with his art on Flinders lane right opposite the police station (haha god bless him).

"Banksy woz ere" oh fuck off, go do something original.

B&D&O

I have three letters for you-

B

D

O

These three letters can only mean one thing, Big Day Out and those three words equate to a days length of music and sun and bass and treble and trouble and sun hats and noise and hidden corners where one goes to for peace and speakers and bouncers and boys and girls and men and women and food and drinks and smiles and photos and scene kids and indie kids and wow, I'm 139 dollars down but by January the 26th ill be up up up up in the air with joy.

EPIC

8 full hours of post punk rock and roll metally goodness was exactly what I needed.

By youths and for youths the Epic Festival was jam-packed with up'n'coming high school garage bands and three well knows The Quarters The Refunds and non other than British India.

photo credit: moi!

fafafa feeling blue [reel of film 1]

Oh Boy

One thing that annoys me a hell of a lot more than anything else is when people give speeches and they relate everything back to personal stories...
"the other day I was driving car"
"while I was watching T.V"
"I read a book"
"I made eye contact with a complete stranger and suddenly I came to a revelation!"

Don't you think it's sad that these people live their lives knowing that everything they did had to have deeper meaning just so come next public event they could crap on and on and on some more?...

So to the worst offender here is a new acronym for you...
L.O.C
LOAD OF CRAP

A+

Eveline Tarunadjaja inspires my art my poetry my mind my actions my life...

I yawned I cried

It was my biggest nightmare.
A dark room with lots of strangers, more than two hours of torture, an over botoxed lady and an arrogant man with an ugly body and insanely bad chest hair.

Baz Luhrman you haven't done it again.
Although McCain?! Keep up the bloody good work.

The Mute Prophet

On the weekend I had a stall, I sold clothes and teapots and old powder puff compacts from the 50's. The money I earned was fairly ace but the greatest thing happened and it was...

Just picture a man dressed in furs and skins and coffee coloured materials walking bare foot, leaning on his magnificently carved walking stick, with dread locks, wrinkled skin and wise eyes.

"He doesn't speak, he thinks he is a prophet"
"A prophet?"
"Yes, A prophet!"

So as this man walked around the market my eyes walked with him until!
*suspense increases*

The prophet approached my stall, we made eye contact, I looked away.
He Nodded, I admit to blushing and slouching a little.
He said "How Much?" pointing to an unimportant object on my table, I freaked out, smiled and slowly nodded.

Not only does this make me extremely happy but it brakes my heart to think that all this time no one thought he talked and hence did not talk to him...

So the meaning of all of this ranting IS, that even if you suspect someone is a mute prophet do not hold back and chat.
You never know, maybe he will want to know the price of an umimportant object on your table too.