Fake It Till You Make It

I had the most CRAPPY week..

spent 50% of my time telling myself 

prostitution-is-not-my-portion-in-the-name-of-Jesus

before i kind of realised that I've probably been watching Showgirls a little too much.. ya know

 just because POP refuse to answer my daily e-mails begging for an internship doesn't mean to say i'll somehow end up working as the main attraction at club Cheetah... (not to mention there isn't even a club Cheetah in London) 

anywhoo i picked myself out of my Nomi-inspired sweet dream/beautiful nightmare, shed the spandex, got myself into some work attire and out into the world of professional opportunity... 

wearing: necklace; primark / body; Topshop / belt; Primark / slacks; H&M / platforms; Office / Sack; Topshop

time to leave the spandex to the strippers.

it's only fitting that i'm embarrassingly obsessed with this song right?!

x

Resourceful Procrastination

I don't know about everyone else, but i rely on the symbiosis of my procrastination to get me through the week.. its really fulfilling when one time wasting exercise ties in with another equally time wasting manoeuvre-albeit with a very thin philosophical realisation.

Explained

--the sun came out and it was hot, very, very hot(slight exaggeration).. this made me think of sitting in a dirty bar somewhere in the tropics swallowing donuts, drinking coronas and snacking on dried prawns--

--WATCHED Death Proof because drinking beer and giving old dusty/slimy/creepy men lap dances is a DREAM of mine (minus the psychopathic tendencies and gory death)

--READ The Rum Diary because the whole book is testament to the fact that there is no such thing as a perfect-tropical-paradise-getaway-heaven-place.. no matter where you go there will ALWAYS some crazy bastard ready to ruin your life and turn you into a pile of mince.. even though i haven't been able to get myself past page 81 yet, i have a feeling Chenault might do the whole tragic-death-courtesy-of-a-kerrazzzy-man thing (crazy dude being Yeamon) 

--WORE a 70's, Tarantino-esque ensemble to really get in the spirit of things.. despite all the fatalities, i still want a shack on the beach in Bahia, a jukebox, 3 crates of Coronas, 5 pitchers of Margaritas and Caipirinhas, my girls and a crazy psychopath (Christian Bale circa American Psycho.. yes please)!

tshirt; H&M  / shorts; Beyond Retro / bag; Vintage / plimsolls; River Island

and there you have it, one day perfectly procrastinated away.. bad grammar.. i'm sorry.

ps. would anyone care to join me as i try to make this cruel summer a reality?

x

S.H.I.T

spells..

Sucks | How | It | Transpired
yeah i made that up to justify the frequency with which i use the word SHIT nowadays..
this is in regards to uni, how it ended, and how i never somehow prepared myself for the day i'd have to create some sort of structure in my life.. i'm finding it hard to adjust to the fact that i cant just cut an academic institution a fat cheque anymore and expect them to give me tasks to do that keep my life occupied.. you know like how i've done since daycare

So being that i don't know the ins and outs of making a curriculum i've taken to wondering the streets aimlessly pretending to be on a solo school trip
uniform: unitard, heeled trainers, cardigan, scarf, prada sack

expedition type: zoo trip
(aka drinking chai tea latte's in Starbucks on south molton street pretending to write an article)

homework: see reading list
(finish reading the Rum Diary and A Farewell To Arms before attempting to start on Ulysses.. all book reports due in sometime before you die)

do i need help growing up?
yes,i think i do.
x

Le Sigh

"Can I Live"

Forgettin all I ever knew, convenient amnesia

I suggest you call my lawyer, I know the procedure

Lock my body can't trap my mind, easily

explain why we adapt to crime

I'd rather die enormous than live dormant that's how we on it

Live at the main event, I bet a trip to Maui on it

Presidential suites my resedential for the weekend

Confidentially speakin in codes since I sense you peekin

The NSX rental, don't be fooled my game is mental

We both out of town dog, what you tryin to get into?

Viva, Las Vegas, see ya, later at the crap tables

meet me by the one that starts a G up

This way no fraud Willie's present gambling they re-up

And we can have a pleasant time, sippin margaritas

Ge-ge-geyeahhh, can I live?

Can I live?

My mind is infested, with sick thoughts that circle

like a Lexus, if driven wrong it's sure to hurt you

Dual level like duplexes, in unity, my crew and me

commit atrocities like we got immunity

You guessed it, manifest it in tangible goods

Platinum Rolexed it, we don't lease

we buy the whole car, as you should

My confederation, dead a nation, EXPLODE

on detonation, overload the mind of a said patient

When it boils to steam, it comes to it

we all fiends gotta do it, even righteous minds go through this

True this, history school us to spend our money foolish

Bond with jewellers and, watch for intruders

I stepped it up another level, meditated like a buddhist

Recruited lieutenants with ludicrous, dreams of

gettin cream let's do this, it gets tedious

So I keep one eye open like, C-B-S, ya see me

stressed right? Can I live?

Can I live?

Can I live?

Can I live?

Ha-hah, Roc-A-Fella y'all 

i wish life would stop trying to bitch slap me into submission

it wont succeed I'll just be a fiercer bitch.

x

Focus

i want to drink Chai Tea Latte's and paint my nails everyday

being in fulltime education is a severe hindrance on these plans

Maybe I will get a job

Get a job as a waitress

Maybe waiting tables in a diner

In some remote city down the highway

x

Arty Shit

If I Were Tickled by the Rub of Love

BY DYLAN THOMAS

If I were tickled by the rub of love, A rooking girl who stole me for her side, Broke through her straws, breaking my bandaged string, If the red tickle as the cattle calve Still set to scratch a laughter from my lung, I would not fear the apple nor the flood Nor the bad blood of spring. Shall it be male or female? say the cells, And drop the plum like fire from the flesh.

If I were tickled by the hatching hair, The winging bone that sprouted in the heels, The itch of man upon the baby's thigh, I would not fear the gallows nor the axe Nor the crossed sticks of war. Shall it be male or female? say the fingers That chalk the walls with greet girls and their men. I would not fear the muscling-in of love If I were tickled by the urchin hungers Rehearsing heat upon a raw-edged nerve. I would not fear the devil in the loin Nor the outspoken grave. If I were tickled by the lovers' rub That wipes away not crow's-foot nor the lock Of sick old manhood on the fallen jaws, Time and the crabs and the sweethearting crib Would leave me cold as butter for the flies The sea of scums could drown me as it broke Dead on the sweethearts' toes. This world is half the devil's and my own, Daft with the drug that's smoking in a girl And curling round the bud that forks her eye. An old man's shank one-marrowed with my bone, And all the herrings smelling in the sea, I sit and watch the worm beneath my nail Wearing the quick away. And that's the rub, the only rub that tickles. The knobbly ape that swings along his sex From damp love-darkness and the nurse's twist Can never raise the midnight of a chuckle, Nor when he finds a beauty in the breast Of lover, mother, lovers, or his six Feet in the rubbing dust. And what's the rub? Death's feather on the nerve? Your mouth, my love, the thistle in the kiss? My Jack of Christ born thorny on the tree? The words of death are dryer than his stiff, My wordy wounds are printed with your hair. I would be tickled by the rub that is: Man be my metaphor.

The Kiss

BY PABLO PICASSO

i recently visited a gallery and read the Dylan Thomas poetry book i stole from Romford library and this is all i can think about...

.ABSORBING.LEARNING.GROWING.

X