tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-82601824993813286122024-03-05T16:56:48.172+10:00todayHelenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.comBlogger22125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-90438990631286353602011-02-09T15:45:00.006+10:002011-02-09T15:53:57.682+10:00are you mad?<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:130%;">“'But I don’t want to go among mad people,' Alice remarked.<br />'Oh, you can’t help that,' said the Cat. 'We’re all mad here. I’m mad. You’re mad.'<br />'How do you know I’m mad?' said Alice.<br />'You must be,” said the Cat. 'or you wouldn’t have come here.'”<br /></span><br /><br /><br /><iframe title="YouTube video player" width="480" height="390" src="http://www.youtube.com/embed/2e7kjmb3Ees" frameborder="0" allowfullscreen></iframe>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-59194561104786523392011-01-19T15:21:00.011+10:002011-01-19T15:37:25.391+10:00chocolate<div align="center"><span style="font-family:courier new;font-size:180%;color:#cccccc;"><a href="http://www.carstenwitte.com/"><span style="color:#c0c0c0;">Carsten Witte : )</span><br /></a></span><br /><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TTZ2K4xIwKI/AAAAAAAAA0c/tP7YxYH-90o/s1600/020910105209_0CarstenWitte-13.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563764319072075938" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TTZ2K4xIwKI/AAAAAAAAA0c/tP7YxYH-90o/s400/020910105209_0CarstenWitte-13.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7mQpc65hKDUskSi7TFdtvmJPHVV0uml1hEGeOKlwRqubXMoBOZ7oujQhI4SvnMOlzHzKSlsOe6zN9wGeCzdN_qpTWKw4OHRsE8un0fEPtE80GwfHB-Y3JCTY4yWCP3Kfcy-JiJG8vIM/s1600/020910105209_0CarstenWitte-14.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 267px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563764083236753474" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEif7mQpc65hKDUskSi7TFdtvmJPHVV0uml1hEGeOKlwRqubXMoBOZ7oujQhI4SvnMOlzHzKSlsOe6zN9wGeCzdN_qpTWKw4OHRsE8un0fEPtE80GwfHB-Y3JCTY4yWCP3Kfcy-JiJG8vIM/s400/020910105209_0CarstenWitte-14.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TTZ1zm0Rz_I/AAAAAAAAA0M/Mvfus4AR9TU/s1600/020910105053_0CarstenWitte-1.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563763919116423154" border="0" alt="" src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TTZ1zm0Rz_I/AAAAAAAAA0M/Mvfus4AR9TU/s400/020910105053_0CarstenWitte-1.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563763773239759746" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TTZ1rHYkk4I/AAAAAAAAA0E/ZKhWCXG-i-o/s400/020910105124_0CarstenWitte-6.jpg" /><br /><br /><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOGeHdNC1hgumoKTTUkefVzgSUzV9vmCDTpUJ-uSp2Q4JA-UknGZWKnK_pDfQEpAt4pq6rcjATeZAbcNPKiTPm5eIe-4T7r9C1471x3ahkyQfTA4LMm923DPNXJuqpZq-VJvq3R5Lohg/s1600/020910105053_0CarstenWitte-2.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5563763689082258466" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgqOGeHdNC1hgumoKTTUkefVzgSUzV9vmCDTpUJ-uSp2Q4JA-UknGZWKnK_pDfQEpAt4pq6rcjATeZAbcNPKiTPm5eIe-4T7r9C1471x3ahkyQfTA4LMm923DPNXJuqpZq-VJvq3R5Lohg/s400/020910105053_0CarstenWitte-2.jpg" /></a><br /><br /></div><div align="center"></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-42832024853662356702010-12-06T09:30:00.002+10:002011-01-16T15:14:47.558+10:00night<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The night walked down the sky with the moon in her hand. </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="color: #444444; font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">~Frederick L. Knowles</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">wanted...</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkf1-HtPbNyszV25TYbsCupdK1RGrE2wFAW77BnEuXSfZ82sITAFbpA0N-m-OxyjRg_QgDNd0IDYdB9cs-neJgnl7WvAmmr2vu4gZEk0A_soLip-xFPZnjXqKkVscvFun8atWwxL7ezg/s1600/saw6blood_01.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="640" ox="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgKkf1-HtPbNyszV25TYbsCupdK1RGrE2wFAW77BnEuXSfZ82sITAFbpA0N-m-OxyjRg_QgDNd0IDYdB9cs-neJgnl7WvAmmr2vu4gZEk0A_soLip-xFPZnjXqKkVscvFun8atWwxL7ezg/s640/saw6blood_01.jpg" width="412" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.theblondsnewyork.com/"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">The Blondes</span></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-8954020663110047092010-11-11T20:07:00.001+10:002010-11-11T20:08:20.640+10:00dream<div style="text-align: center;">It's such a sad old feeling</div><div style="text-align: center;">the fields are soft and green</div><div style="text-align: center;">it's memories that I'm stealing</div><div style="text-align: center;">but you're innocent when you dream...<em>Tom Waits</em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/6Sw_vi6KBB0?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/6Sw_vi6KBB0?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-23789994405921673062010-11-05T20:29:00.001+10:002010-11-05T20:40:40.573+10:00black and white<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">"If you obey all the rules, you miss all the fun." </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
<span style="font-size: x-small;"></span></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;">-- Katharine Hepburn</span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TNPJpv--9CI/AAAAAAAAAwk/G4Sjn0Gf7Os/s1600/brigitte-bardot.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" px="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TNPJpv--9CI/AAAAAAAAAwk/G4Sjn0Gf7Os/s320/brigitte-bardot.jpg" width="226" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Terry_O'Neill_(photographer)">Brigitte Bardot by Terry O'Neill</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtXD-Q1hPl63TYkSEs080VT681cgKf1ddgKv2ce_p_eLP2h2sfkhUOiYbPbtW7A9DHV8SDJKByN4S5a9UjXg0ZgeIHriXzLnRN60-roBvGipZLTPOepDdZcilQ7WBDMcNVoz2kXeFcVQ/s1600/bassman_lillian_25_1998-1024x802.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="250" px="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgrtXD-Q1hPl63TYkSEs080VT681cgKf1ddgKv2ce_p_eLP2h2sfkhUOiYbPbtW7A9DHV8SDJKByN4S5a9UjXg0ZgeIHriXzLnRN60-roBvGipZLTPOepDdZcilQ7WBDMcNVoz2kXeFcVQ/s320/bassman_lillian_25_1998-1024x802.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://www.staleywise.com/collection/bassman/bassman_exhibition.html">Lillian Bassman</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/qtHd5j_HfI0?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/qtHd5j_HfI0?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-44331112153910229322010-11-03T16:05:00.000+10:002010-11-03T16:05:56.291+10:00pipeline<div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"None but natives ever master the art of surf-bathing thoroughly."</span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">"In one place we came upon a large company of naked natives, of both sexes and all ages, amusing themselves with the national pastime of surf-bathing. Each heathen would paddle three or four hundred yards out to sea (taking a short board with him), then face the shore and wait for a particularly prodigious billow to come along; at the right moment he would fling his board upon its foamy crest and himself upon the board, and here he would come whizzing by like a bombshell!"</span></em></div><em></em><br />
<div style="text-align: center;"><em><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><a href="http://www.cmgww.com/historic/twain/">Mark Twain</a></span></em></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlRW4_NMmINu4o4tB1jSuWuNEW8HTB-mUkc-4YnKtTpz9hyvEaelyb6478LfmAtuP1sffOJK9l-6K1Wj45cjGrL5VkgEjHYbDL6UsFCe8jbzbVlT5H6ICy_yyuK1i0Kh_W-BOIdoAKlE/s1600/australian-surfer-punches-great-white-shark-during-attack.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="208" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhNlRW4_NMmINu4o4tB1jSuWuNEW8HTB-mUkc-4YnKtTpz9hyvEaelyb6478LfmAtuP1sffOJK9l-6K1Wj45cjGrL5VkgEjHYbDL6UsFCe8jbzbVlT5H6ICy_yyuK1i0Kh_W-BOIdoAKlE/s320/australian-surfer-punches-great-white-shark-during-attack.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif; font-size: x-small;"><a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Great_white_shark">Great White</a></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><br />
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</span></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-29648350144297216712010-11-01T22:04:00.000+10:002010-11-01T22:04:56.397+10:00the races<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Four things greater than all things are, -</em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em></em></span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>Women and Horses and Power and War.</em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><em>~Rudyard Kipling</em></span></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;"><br />
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<span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">Hmmm...the Melbourne Cup. Of course I'm not going but that doesn't mean I won't be day-dreaming about what I would wear. You probably wouldn't find me in all my finery, sitting in a marquee sipping champagne with the beautiful people, you'd more likely find me in all my finery, sitting in the hay in the corner of a dark stable sharing a carrot and a word with a beautiful stallion. </span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: Verdana, sans-serif;">: )</span></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc28lU-QATI3f3Yvt3UJG2m_tDNAg5g2XjS293yOiea7wsg-Q_NlB8F552MSzUUksvR7r8WTbyZXMOU4HvzV_f7t8z-7sn3oKLHxhlyT0tVCnnOhyHKj7an4DVaSmu9CpP8QRazI_Lgn8/s1600/garter_crm.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjc28lU-QATI3f3Yvt3UJG2m_tDNAg5g2XjS293yOiea7wsg-Q_NlB8F552MSzUUksvR7r8WTbyZXMOU4HvzV_f7t8z-7sn3oKLHxhlyT0tVCnnOhyHKj7an4DVaSmu9CpP8QRazI_Lgn8/s320/garter_crm.jpg" width="280" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.deliciousboutique.com/">Delicious Boutique</a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TM6UQ-hzNcI/AAAAAAAAAuw/K4a3Xq2jGTU/s1600/cess_madonna_05_h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" nx="true" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TM6UQ-hzNcI/AAAAAAAAAuw/K4a3Xq2jGTU/s320/cess_madonna_05_h.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TM6Ui9_pptI/AAAAAAAAAu0/J7cHSdUrYrE/s1600/cess_madonna_09_h.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="219" nx="true" src="http://2.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TM6Ui9_pptI/AAAAAAAAAu0/J7cHSdUrYrE/s320/cess_madonna_09_h.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.wmagazine.com/celebrities/archive/madonna_klein#slide=1">Madonna/Steven Klein</a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div class="separator" style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpFu8qCCRxEK6K6j5bWRUQaNa8PJcBw7hiq45-f00OPWC7kh74fi2RWqdOsqagBDpa-vFZz341OHDgqZalDQvk8ISlsWmFguVOQ3iEvDaqYjj9_mbsg6q6riQNiSfPEZ0Fr2x3HK4_H8/s1600/hill455_220410090952.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="203" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhUpFu8qCCRxEK6K6j5bWRUQaNa8PJcBw7hiq45-f00OPWC7kh74fi2RWqdOsqagBDpa-vFZz341OHDgqZalDQvk8ISlsWmFguVOQ3iEvDaqYjj9_mbsg6q6riQNiSfPEZ0Fr2x3HK4_H8/s320/hill455_220410090952.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.alannahhill.com.au/">Alannah Hill</a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VaIukv3gKZWuY2YsdaNVl5eus-yr2t20WkTErl2H3JDKPqBCNDNLqD4s-Z01PD5yron7aRrKABRe1GGjkGkAH9fQt7Bup0suriVYXNBFr0T06if6Ue6SNxjGgu3hxKLLLBbTnjMC5Yg/s1600/ts.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="237" nx="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh5VaIukv3gKZWuY2YsdaNVl5eus-yr2t20WkTErl2H3JDKPqBCNDNLqD4s-Z01PD5yron7aRrKABRe1GGjkGkAH9fQt7Bup0suriVYXNBFr0T06if6Ue6SNxjGgu3hxKLLLBbTnjMC5Yg/s320/ts.jpg" width="320" /></a></div><div style="text-align: center;"><a href="http://www.puntersparadise.com.au/melbourne-cup-form-guide/">The Form Guide</a></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><object height="385" width="480"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/X_DVS_303kQ?fs=1&hl=en_US"></param><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"></param><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"></param><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/X_DVS_303kQ?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="480" height="385"></embed></object></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"></div><div style="border-bottom: medium none; border-left: medium none; border-right: medium none; border-top: medium none; text-align: center;"><br />
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</div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-48458925405407194652010-10-30T18:23:00.037+10:002010-10-31T19:26:51.330+10:00the end of october<div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">“Bring forth the raisins and the nuts, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">tonight all-hallows' </span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">spectre, </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">struts along the moonlit way.” </span></div><div style="text-align: center;"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">- John Kendrik</span><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;"><br />
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</div><div align="center"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TM0A-7YFJwI/AAAAAAAAAtc/kDQxskE2Jss/s400/600333.jpg" /></div><div align="center"><a href="http://www.dazedgroup.com/artsandculture/article/8770/1/vanitas-the-transcience-of-earthly-pleasures"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">Vanitas: The Transcience of Earthly Pleasures</span></a><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;"><br />
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</span><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvX3HLNTYmDfeb-Rrngel6pBFRGU5e3kcGv51a8tK2fVDY5IILlybaaIPTOY0q_U42iDkNqlZ_8fnar-u-XTEVInha9oAgYWLEOrCOEhE84t9a1LwuOdf9m576tBNub6ZLkJ-WvOJPAU/s1600/zorro_01_back_cover_low.jpg"><img src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgxvX3HLNTYmDfeb-Rrngel6pBFRGU5e3kcGv51a8tK2fVDY5IILlybaaIPTOY0q_U42iDkNqlZ_8fnar-u-XTEVInha9oAgYWLEOrCOEhE84t9a1LwuOdf9m576tBNub6ZLkJ-WvOJPAU/s400/zorro_01_back_cover_low.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"><a href="http://pulpsunday.blogspot.com/2008/02/zorro-1-by-wagner-francavilla.html"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">Zorro #1 by Wagner & Francavilla</span></a><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;"><br />
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</span><a href="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TMz5nrmbKMI/AAAAAAAAAtU/yppwyK8WqjE/s1600/owlhunting_8x10.jpg"><img src="http://4.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TMz5nrmbKMI/AAAAAAAAAtU/yppwyK8WqjE/s400/owlhunting_8x10.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"><a href="http://www.kukulaland.com/"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">Kukula</span></a></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;"> </span><div align="center"><a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TMvpJHyfi4I/AAAAAAAAAsI/YvUlfnaF2AA/s1600/tulsa.jpg"><img src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TMvpJHyfi4I/AAAAAAAAAsI/YvUlfnaF2AA/s400/tulsa.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"><a href="http://museum.icp.org/museum/exhibitions/larry_clark/tulsa.html"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">Tulsa</span></a></div><div align="center"><br />
</div><div align="center"><a href="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TMyhg9KNidI/AAAAAAAAAsk/KQFld-T4qvs/s1600/windowslivewritersweetcustombuiltlargeformatfilmcameras-9d98cam03-20-crop-3.jpg"><img src="http://3.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TMyhg9KNidI/AAAAAAAAAsk/KQFld-T4qvs/s400/windowslivewritersweetcustombuiltlargeformatfilmcameras-9d98cam03-20-crop-3.jpg" /></a></div><div align="center"><a href="http://www.kippwettstein.com/index.php?/cameraproject/carbon-edition/"><span style="font-family: verdana; font-size: 85%;">Kipp Wettstein</span></a> </div><div align="center"><br />
<object height="385" width="640"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/aGakxDyjwzc?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"> <embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/aGakxDyjwzc?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object></div></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-45527041302598813992010-10-29T20:33:00.018+10:002010-10-30T08:39:43.865+10:00flashback<div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Growing up, the only advice my Mum ever gave me was 'Never trust a man...who wears white shoes and sports coats' and 'even if you have absolutely nothing...at least look like you do'.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Ha!</span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyH2SYbO6Rcl4Dy4bzYNCyJ-MnNasI60_c_acxWszWv12nJkoyvNtXd4Fr-6SmfKsIbdu_eO9tRiaTLLK30WPYzCoHKrXAmOPOwbxlFdIyXov_ut_kQT3mWrK3qrhBfDROV1CTaD0EJzI/s1600/8-31-2010_561.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 347px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533595476991348082" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgyH2SYbO6Rcl4Dy4bzYNCyJ-MnNasI60_c_acxWszWv12nJkoyvNtXd4Fr-6SmfKsIbdu_eO9tRiaTLLK30WPYzCoHKrXAmOPOwbxlFdIyXov_ut_kQT3mWrK3qrhBfDROV1CTaD0EJzI/s400/8-31-2010_561.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm2WnImH4NZijhdkbzWUsv4t_MU-wrAqwsTz-v1u2XWeZRjC4_ZKVLujwjnww9iCPQYAD821nBOahRbvQK_1aKVlA8QH1eQ2QyfI9ICCTOZFoGj3fY3O1seuK4Jw3o51BHflt-tke7GmE/s1600/Fondue.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 347px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533595382954340626" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjm2WnImH4NZijhdkbzWUsv4t_MU-wrAqwsTz-v1u2XWeZRjC4_ZKVLujwjnww9iCPQYAD821nBOahRbvQK_1aKVlA8QH1eQ2QyfI9ICCTOZFoGj3fY3O1seuK4Jw3o51BHflt-tke7GmE/s400/Fondue.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0I6OpUeLvinPjYpin1of51j0wmj-GLMBmybDU4glNQhi4WuxiCppNTDXod0A-l5d_NC5CEjtS079bYE15SfvGxkDDNM4ful9djPOabYYGxmC_7dlsSjMNEKnXmxonV0bfvakZu9dXxHA/s1600/DSCF2601nh.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 347px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533594707449088498" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEj0I6OpUeLvinPjYpin1of51j0wmj-GLMBmybDU4glNQhi4WuxiCppNTDXod0A-l5d_NC5CEjtS079bYE15SfvGxkDDNM4ful9djPOabYYGxmC_7dlsSjMNEKnXmxonV0bfvakZu9dXxHA/s400/DSCF2601nh.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jeCDTdGRjHI2y1yMqfNK59yCtKIlLrXryUq71I98Fdmbx3HivCsq6rcI5emz6Fx8-mBnEu7j0CdUSEud5lAhlh7tBqqzC9Klcvl1KkLEQRxTkyV7o1RLWkkSdYWgdxIL7wUoAxRG-jE/s1600/polaroid.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 347px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533594597711687490" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg9jeCDTdGRjHI2y1yMqfNK59yCtKIlLrXryUq71I98Fdmbx3HivCsq6rcI5emz6Fx8-mBnEu7j0CdUSEud5lAhlh7tBqqzC9Klcvl1KkLEQRxTkyV7o1RLWkkSdYWgdxIL7wUoAxRG-jE/s400/polaroid.jpg" /></a><br /></div><div align="center"> </div><div align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4gFxiz1fJhK6FRvVaSG78fLErBk6uXm_A8KcfThyo0KX81_kLJnG4eg0LvDUsEu0vekix9DNA3dXgBE9zXg3CPwJHZSBMgQUuVlauhDk68hTYOL7kMyCrClDvIyvHJ7UvOyFop-27KE/s1600/DSC08418.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 347px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533594476268031282" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiU4gFxiz1fJhK6FRvVaSG78fLErBk6uXm_A8KcfThyo0KX81_kLJnG4eg0LvDUsEu0vekix9DNA3dXgBE9zXg3CPwJHZSBMgQUuVlauhDk68hTYOL7kMyCrClDvIyvHJ7UvOyFop-27KE/s400/DSC08418.jpg" /></a><br /><br /><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/MoyzhBV-leI?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/MoyzhBV-leI?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /><span style="font-family:Verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-74187555553360617742010-10-28T15:43:00.023+10:002010-10-28T19:44:23.996+10:00what do I need to say<div align="center"><br /></div><div align="center"><span style="font-size:85%;">Light laughs the breeze in her castle of sunshine,<br />Babbles the bee in a stolid ear<br />...<a href="http://www.poets.org/poet.php/prmPID/155"><span style="font-size:78%;">Emily Dickinson</span></a></span><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span><br /></div><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 325px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5532973672267231154" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi25_ijmVrFsFit5UwcVBG70TBYNpzAk5G8Kez1XZ0GmrcCmNwqRjUq2rsBxIwd-nK3pWZ5LpMt7Qgj_NgnGVqt04pi20AKBnm8UoWfkptPha5yuJTYwwoB8MvCRg6blJ3JLyYSG6I-2oQ/s400/HAMMER~1.JPG" /> <p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 335px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533007849192586482" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhhedmG8hzYV73iKFT709jg3zFcGGd4T7Ehaidryvbmo8Zy7XGzWpzA2nk3AJMZ7slimJG2eLiJhVB1BD3Pd6X_hdAnYEvr4Bd7Kv5uOoy-q5m1GPQYRWPWslEkWmDDZ1fXtuGVpX9LaFc/s400/Vilhelm_Hammershoi_5.jpg" /></p><p align="center"><a href="http://www.hammershoi.co.uk/"><span style="font-size:78%;">Vilhelm Hammershoi Paintings</span></a><span style="font-size:78%;"><br /></span></p><p><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 239px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533014472285892802" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgFSM2GKVCYdUunBBphA0sPUfpJG8j-fEUXtcRwIhe-iPNGwQNG6aLnQYjManTdrOyOnPrcCe-9WGh0cfUO0Wjvu-fRRfS5zlXjW4EsSwh-MDH8TpC5i4RDQIqy2f38csBYfrroVKOZtko/s400/86461.jpg" /><br /><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh83njOaNrxvpGa4UElF3iYTCD9fwuMzAHI9USkpZnxV86aeOoof7-vPrQu8JhuM5yUJgfMv05O65EUKE7cBd5ikDGZH4pKkT6AUvvkm0Ise-ivTXtBDb9vgJlwROfgEhOjRROz2kVcAIw/s1600/4900892959_5f50ef0273_o.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 201px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533018221326043346" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh83njOaNrxvpGa4UElF3iYTCD9fwuMzAHI9USkpZnxV86aeOoof7-vPrQu8JhuM5yUJgfMv05O65EUKE7cBd5ikDGZH4pKkT6AUvvkm0Ise-ivTXtBDb9vgJlwROfgEhOjRROz2kVcAIw/s400/4900892959_5f50ef0273_o.jpg" /></a></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="http://www.quentinshih.com/">Quentin Shih Photography<br /><br /></a></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkQshCAEg_QpMXhR_VStzuaGXoXlUCbZ2rbkvdVU-iyELUHXS-t6SvFqZ_bUO9cdN-mb7gAu0_5zVmCzvup0a6-vyac15eCwNmZt6XxoQndjmrPtbm1EOcMJrEgMW1PLPWKlNJAUBl_o/s1600/ariel.jpg"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5533026745133511890" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjZkQshCAEg_QpMXhR_VStzuaGXoXlUCbZ2rbkvdVU-iyELUHXS-t6SvFqZ_bUO9cdN-mb7gAu0_5zVmCzvup0a6-vyac15eCwNmZt6XxoQndjmrPtbm1EOcMJrEgMW1PLPWKlNJAUBl_o/s400/ariel.jpg" /></a><br /></span></p><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><a href="http://pitchfork.com/reviews/albums/14324-before-today/">Ariel Pink</a></p></span><p align="center"><span style="font-size:78%;"><object width="640" height="385"><param name="movie" value="http://www.youtube.com/v/DqpHcBZhRhY?fs=1&hl=en_US"><param name="allowFullScreen" value="true"><param name="allowscriptaccess" value="always"><br /><embed src="http://www.youtube.com/v/DqpHcBZhRhY?fs=1&hl=en_US" type="application/x-shockwave-flash" allowscriptaccess="always" allowfullscreen="true" width="640" height="385"></embed></object><br /><br /><br /></p></span>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-43783542403842611042010-08-15T03:24:00.070+10:002010-10-03T21:45:16.986+10:00Contes et échouer de voyage<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Travel Tales, Time Flails and Fails...<br /><br />I am seriously the worst blogger in history....especially when it comes to writing a 'travel blog'. I'm not sure it matters much, the only people who do read these things are those who actually follow me :) But, I apologize for my inconsistence. I will try and keep it up on another level in the future when I have re-settled back home.<br /><br /><em>Time</em>...like love, death, happiness and sadness reminds me of the wind (or a cyclone in my case...and possibly yours). It blows through you and around you, more often than not dumping you flat on your arse. You wear it on your arm, keep it on your wall...and question it (<em>what time are you? how much of you do I have?</em>). You want to get lost in it, travel through it, stop it, speed it up or lose it. Instead it loses you with a flick of its uncompassionate cyclonic wrist. So my <em>time</em> here is up and I must leave or as Hamlet so pointedly put it<em> 'the time is out of joint, o cursed spite, that ever I was born to set it right'</em>.<br />This country is truly beautiful and amazing, overflowing with history, spectacular scenery and genuine smiles. It has taken all my willpower not to stay and illegally get lost in it. To do that would be a risk I'm not sure I could take, without saying goodbye to my family at least. Oneday perhaps :)<br /><br />Ms Weatherford, Pippy and Juju...thankyou forever for your heartwarming welcome, patience and care...for letting me stay with you and for sharing your family and friends with me. Snugness :)<br />To have three countries I can call home is not something alot of people can say they have. I can and I am terribly grateful for it.<br />I came and I saw...but not everything. The skin my fingertips didn't brush, the eyes I know yet didn't meet, the sounds of something familiar and sweet...I didn't hear it. Tiny stitches of fine cotton have wound themselves around my heart like stitches in <em>time</em> and<em>....some other time perhaps.</em><br /><br />I'm going to end by saying that my travel <em>images</em> are my blog. My thoughts and memories intertwined throughout each one...read them, they'll tell you all you need to know.<br />Do wish me luck...I'm going to need it as I head home in a few days with an empty jar once filled with dancing starflies, a heaving heart and...some heavy luggage.<br />Somebody hand me a torch and perhaps something feathery to land on :)<br /><br />love and au revoir x x x</span><br /><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-23233445743431174432010-08-06T05:35:00.012+10:002010-10-28T15:27:40.565+10:00Direction<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;">Before I finish my travel blog with a bumper ending. I've been thinking about what I'm going to do when I go back to Australia. I will be starting from scratch because I have no home or job to slide back in to when I get there. The thought excites me because I believe in my capabilities to come up with something out of nothing. I'm a survivor, I live on water.<br />I'm also a qualified Chef, who wanted to be a Mortician but instead worked as a Film Developer, managed a Music store then became an Events manager. I love Photography, but the technical side of my camera and how I should use it to take an 'awesome' photo is of no interest to me, therefore I could never make a living out of it. I prefer to create scenes with props that make no sense and models who probably don't either, put them all together for the person who can take great photo's and 'boom' create a piece of still film history (which maybe later could become a moving picture, if we are lucky)<br />I'd like to be a Photographic Stylist/Art Director.<br />It will be my goal (wish me luck) something to work towards and if it doesn't eventuate for whatever reason, I'm sure I'll have fun getting kicked out of class :)<br /></span><br /></span><br /><a href="http://www.allworth.com/Creative_Careers_in_Photography_p/978-1-58115-469-6.htm"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 278px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5502037049162793650" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjNNZjZ3fLXf3eyjnkBcHvOybQfxA0bQn9WQsjXdI5wCMqTwsn4d2YmYNTWDKtSp-an8KSZEN-vEYuZmAHH6_Z0VeVKZtGvovaJ2CCDf0sJJIM_bw2RsPjqU5mF05QWT4FyjD7lgO3b2hU/s400/978-1-58115-469-6-2.jpg" /></a><br /><a href="http://www.allworth.com/Creative_Careers_in_Photography_p/978-1-58115-469-6.htm"></a>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-36340174735322913022010-08-01T03:53:00.023+10:002010-10-28T15:28:49.261+10:00The World is a Beautiful Place<span style="color:#666666;"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em>Random -<br /><br />I have 17 dead friends, very close friends (yes, I spend a shit load of money on flowers every year :) and even though they still make an appearance in my life, whether in a dream, a song, or a memory...I spend a lot of time wondering what they would be doing, if they were still here. </em><br /><em>Would they change anything, if they had the chance?</em><br /></span></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><span style="color:#666666;">Would you?<br /></span></em><br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#666666;">The world is a beautiful place<br />to be born into<br />if you don't mind happiness<br />not always being<br />so very much fun<br />if you don't mind a touch of hell<br />now and then<br />just when everything is fine<br />because even in heaven<br />they don't sing<br />all the time<br /><br />The world is a beautiful place<br />to be born into<br />if you don't mind some people dying<br />all the time<br />or maybe only starving<br />some of the time<br />which isn't half bad<br />if it isn't you<br /><br />Oh the world is a beautiful place<br />to be born into<br />if you don't much mind<br />a few dead minds<br />in the higher places<br />or a bomb or two<br />now and then<br />in your upturned faces<br />or such other improprieties<br />as our Name Brand society<br />is prey to<br />with its men of distinction<br />and its men of extinction<br />and its priests<br />and other patrolmen<br /><br />and its various segregations<br />and congressional investigations<br />and other constipations<br />that our fool flesh<br />is heir to<br /><br />Yes the world is the best place of all<br />for a lot of such things as<br />making the fun scene<br />and making the love scene<br />and making the sad scene<br />and singing low songs and having inspirations<br />and walking around<br />looking at everything<br />and smelling flowers<br />and goosing statues<br />and even thinking<br />and kissing people and<br />making babies and wearing pants<br />and waving hats and<br />dancing<br />and going swimming in rivers<br />on picnics<br />in the middle of the summer<br />and just generally<br />'living it up'<br />Yes<br />but then right in the middle of it<br />comes the smiling<br /><br />mortician.<br /><br /><strong><em>Lawrence Ferlinghetti</em></strong></span><span style="color:#666666;"> </span></span>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-75297707292081207752010-07-20T03:52:00.015+10:002010-07-23T17:25:20.378+10:00Someone else's Poet-ry (my favs)<p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgBhn0Npx3sbVR2k70prit85uT5ifJAAjxggEo1Su10p4dqDnDvPmtd4cOK6Cwm4ocEwfk13d6CfS81ZA2_zz0RPxz-c-So7MCENuAgOysh1fGIy4DcTKqGn7yLwovkjSuwuQ06Wbpdjx8/s1600/_DSC7440mk.jpg"></a></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">You bring out the Mexican in me - Sandra Cisneros
<br /></span></em>
<br />I could kill in the name of you
<br />and think it worth it
<br />Brandish a fork and terrorize rivals,
<br />male and female, who loiter and look
<br />At you, in languid light.
<br />Oh,
<br />I am evil
<br />I am the swallower of sins
<br />The lust goddess without guilt
<br />The delicious debauchery.
<br />You bring out the primordial
<br />exquisiteness in me.
<br />The nasty obsession in me.
<br />The corporal and venial sin in me.
<br />The original transgression in me.
<br />
<br /></span><a href="http://www.theunapologeticmexican.org/elgrito/2006/08/you_bring_out_the_mexican_in_m.html"><span style="font-size:85%;">read in full :)</span></a>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><span style="color:#ccccff;"><span style="color:#ffffff;">Sonnet 18 The Paraphrase - Shakespeare</span>
<br /></span></em>
<br />Shall I compare you to a summer's day?
<br />You are more lovely and more constant.
<br />Rough winds shake the beloved buds of May,
<br />And summer is far too short
<br />At times the sun is too hot
<br />Or often goes behind the clouds.
<br />And everything beautiful sometime will lose its beauty,
<br />By misfortune or by nature's planned out course.
<br />But your youth shall not fade
<br />Nor will you lose the beauty that you possess
<br />Nor will death claim you for his own,
<br />Because in my eternal verse you will live forever
<br />So long as there are people on this earth
<br />So long will this poem live on, making you immortal.</span>
<br />
<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>Your Catfish Friend - Richard Brautigan</em>
<br /></span>
<br />If I were to live my life
<br />in catfish forms
<br />in scaffolds of skin and whiskers
<br />at the bottom of a pond
<br />and you were to come by
<br />one evening
<br />when the moon was shining
<br />down into my dark home
<br />and stand there at the edge
<br />of my affection
<br />and think, "It's beautiful
<br />here by this pond.I wish
<br />somebody loved me,"
<br />I'd love you and be your catfish
<br />friend and drive such lonely
<br />thoughts from your mind
<br />and suddenly you would be
<br />at peace,
<br />and ask yourself, "I wonder
<br />if there are any catfish
<br />in this pond?It seems like
<br />a perfect place for them."
<br /><em><strong></strong></em>
<br /><span style="color:#ffffff;"><em>Romeo had Juliette - Lou Reed</em>
<br /></span>
<br />Caught between the twisted stars the plotted lines
<br />the faulty map
<br />that brought Columbus to New York
<br />Betwixt between the east and west
<br />he calls on her wearing a leather vest
<br />the earth squeals and shudders to a halt
<br />A diamond crucifix in his ear is used to help
<br />ward off the fear
<br />that he has left his soul in someone's rented car
<br />Inside his pants he hides a mop
<br />to clean the mess that he has dropped
<br />into the life of lithesome Juliette Bell
<br />
<br />And Romeo wanted Juliette
<br />and Juliette wanted Romeo
<br />
<br />Romeo Rodriguez squares his shoulders and curses Jesus
<br />runs a comb through his black pony tail
<br />He's thinking of his lonely room
<br />The sink that by his bed gives off a stink
<br />then smells her perfume in his eyes
<br />and her voice was like a bell
<br />
<br />Outside the streets were steaming the crack dealers
<br />were dreaming
<br />of an Uzi someone had just scored
<br />I betcha I could hit that light
<br />with my one good arm behind my back
<br />says little Joey Diaz
<br />
<br />Brother, give me another tote
<br />those downtown hoods are no damn good
<br />Those Italians need a lesson to be taught
<br />
<br />This cop who died in Harlem you think they’d
<br />get the warnin’
<br />I was dancing when his brains ran out on the street
<br />
<br />and Romeo had Juliette
<br />and Juliette had her Romeo
<br />
<br />I'll take Manhattan in a garbage bag
<br />with Latin writ on it that says
<br />"It's hard to give a s--t these days"*
<br />Manhattan's sinking like a rock, into the filthy Hudson
<br />what a shock
<br />They wrote a book about it, they said it was
<br />like Ancient Rome
<br />The perfume burned his eyes, holding tightly to her thighs
<br />and something flickered for a minute
<br />and then it vanished and was gone
<br />
<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="color:#ccccff;"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">Solitude Ain't Loneliness - Michelle Clinton</span></em>
<br /></span>
<br />Say for instance you're a girl/ but citified/ a hard sister
<br />like to keep her eyes open when she fucks/ & carries weapons
<br />for the urban night creatures on the prowl/ Say you ain't
<br />got no Freudian thing/ but you packing none the less:
<br />your mucous is acid
<br />your anger on a leash
<br />& can't no wish from the mouth of a warm eyed lover
<br />make you blink
<br />
<br />Before the girl mist can enter you/ before you ever cop
<br />a feminine buss/ & blow the urban rust out your uterus
<br />you got to clear house
<br />you got to clean out
<br />all the greasy fuzz/ left behind by the rat pack lot
<br />of ex lovers
<br />
<br />You got to celibate/ in silence
<br />& wait & wait for a red blush to rise up
<br />a sparkling rush as radical as your first blood
<br />as muscular as your momma's hands in soapy water
<br />cold as the shock of the first breath
<br />the earth blew into your lungs
<br />
<br />The black sky wants your ass purified
<br />& clear enough to release this city's fear
<br />free enough to close your eyes
<br />go inside & hear her.
<br /></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span><span style="font-size:85%;"></span>
<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><span style="color:#ffffff;">She walks in Beauty - Lord Byron
<br /></span></em>
<br />SHE walks in beauty, like the night
<br />Of cloudless climes and starry skies;
<br />And all that 's best of dark and bright
<br />Meet in her aspect and her eyes:
<br />Thus mellow'd to that tender light
<br />Which heaven to gaudy day denies.
<br />One shade the more, one ray the less,
<br />Had half impair'd the nameless grace
<br />Which waves in every raven tress,
<br />Or softly lightens o'er her face;
<br />Where thoughts serenely sweet express
<br />How pure, how dear their dwelling-place.
<br />
<br />And on that cheek, and o'er that brow,
<br />So soft, so calm, yet eloquent,
<br />The smiles that win, the tints that glow,
<br />But tell of days in goodness spent,
<br />A mind at peace with all below,
<br />A heart whose love is innocent. </span>
<br />
<br /><em><span style="font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;">Sonnet 116 - Shakespeare</span></em>
<br />
<br /></p><p align="left"><span style="font-size:85%;"></p><p align="left">
<br />I hope I may never acknowledge any reason why minds that truly love each other shouldn’t be joined together.
<br />Love isn’t really love if it changes when it sees the beloved change or if it disappears when the beloved leaves.
<br />Oh no, love is a constant and unchanging light that shines on storms without being shaken; it is the star that guides every wandering boat.
<br />And like a star, its value is beyond measure, though its height can be measured. Love is not under time’s power, though time has the power to destroy rosy lips and cheeks.
<br />Love does not alter with the passage of brief hours and weeks, but lasts until Doomsday.
<br />If I’m wrong about this and can be proven wrong, I never wrote, and no man ever loved.
<br />
<br /><span style="font-size:85%;"><em><span style="color:#000000;"><strong>
<br /></strong></span></em>
<br /></span></span>
<br /></p></span>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-355843729362306332010-07-17T10:32:00.018+10:002010-10-28T15:29:37.911+10:00Just not that kinda girl & other wtf moments<span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">Having been introduced to Hollywood & Vine last year, I really wanted to check out Hollywood & Highland because the big Bettie Page store is there and some other funky stores. Funky probably being the operative word. There were lots of wig stores, shoe stores and lingerie/costume stores and this is where my childhood Wonder Woman crush and my adult shoe fetish, were, well....crushed. I wanted a pair of those Wonder Woman shorts, you know them. So wandering into the first lingerie shop, I spotted a pair...cool and quite cheap, bingo! The salivating salesman came over and suggested I try them on, and anything else I wanted because everything in his store was made for my body and if I did want anything we could work something out as payment...out the back *wink* I was so embarressed I dropped the Wonder Woman shorts on the floor and walked out...almost falling over a mannequin (ironically wearing a spangly Wonder Woman costume) while trying to hold my arse so he wouldn't look at it.<br />Strike Wonder Woman shorts off list.<br /><br /><br />Shoes however :) I walked into a shoe shop, a large shoe shop. It wasn't until I got in there that I noticed that they were generally either platforms or 10" stilettos. I also noticed that I and the lady I was with, were the only two people in the store, besides the guy 'working' behind the counter. As I walked towards the back to look at the boots...I heard moaning. I thought it was a movie. It wasn't until I got closer and the moaning got louder...that I realised he was watching Porn (with the volume up high) on a TV on the end of the counter and he was looking at us with his tongue hanging out : He was supposed to be the freaking shoesalesman for fucks sake!<br />Strike Shoes off list.<br /><br /><br />Laughing my bum off at my prudishness, we decided food was in order so we went to Musso & Franks (which is the oldest restaurant in Hollywood, being almost 100 years old) and still being run by the same family, generations later. It is still in it's original state, with old leather booths and coat stands beside each one. It smelt like stale tobacco and memories :) Heaps of movie stars, producers, directors and writers had sat in those booths over the years..including Charlie Chaplin, Marilyn Monroe, Ernest Hemingway, Charles Bukowski and Johnny Depp to name a few. Very cool. We were served by the oldest waiter ever who even wore a red jacket and bow tie and had a white waiters napkin draped over one arm. He forgot to take our order...but hey, who the fuck cared, he did eventually remember :)</span><br /></span><p align="center"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDNfu2svsjSRgM_-b5Pop1_HtrqkOF1-Pt0Sy2Tl4eA-TWeqi8ngZ2GKcXqv7O5W8W4pKozMrOQ1rKt6HsS79Zr6FB3eTBKk_m_ZL6mCz7G7nCWtwabx-W35_09VOLjnP4vEjDpkdM5M/s1600/_DSC7476vg.jpg"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><img style="WIDTH: 400px; HEIGHT: 274px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5494687149958301058" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjuDNfu2svsjSRgM_-b5Pop1_HtrqkOF1-Pt0Sy2Tl4eA-TWeqi8ngZ2GKcXqv7O5W8W4pKozMrOQ1rKt6HsS79Zr6FB3eTBKk_m_ZL6mCz7G7nCWtwabx-W35_09VOLjnP4vEjDpkdM5M/s400/_DSC7476vg.jpg" /></span></a></p><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Next, we went up into the Hollywood Hills and to the </span><a href="http://www.griffithobs.org/"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Griffith Observatory</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="font-size:85%;">. That was beautiful and it was right on sunset so there were breathtaking views of L.A and it's surrounding areas. Driving up to the observatory the homes were like something out of the Brady Bunch and I'm sure they would have heard my squeals of "wtf" delight at the still 70's retro condition the homes were in and the "wtf" wails at the amount of money people pay to live there. Gah!<br />My biggest 'down' moments during my visits to L.A, Hollywood, Las Vegas and San Diego has been the amount of homeless people. Breaks my heart...if I could roll them all up into a big sleeping bag and feed them forever...I would. I don't have that kind of money...the Brady Bunch fraternity however...obviously do.</span><br /><br />x</span>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-46396510858318199942010-07-04T13:55:00.018+10:002010-10-28T15:30:10.152+10:00Bright Lights City...<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiqDXFn8eXtzJGXU1gJvXCak0abicFoC3-UO98i3anZYcr_ESRUjWOTETazIVbEeZOn6vHWt2VsyfFfTnWbVAHMCDebStan3N5NH61VgcTm7YlqUVSns6LdOPjmj-GsSIdkNJJYzT-5Aek/s1600/_DSC6637.jpg"></a><br /><div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">didn't set my soul on fire...and I hope that isn't offensive to America, because as beautiful and heartbreaking as you are...Las Vegas didn't entirely move me :)</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I'd booked a short trip there and although, when the time came to go I wasn't in quite the right frame of mind, I was determined to go ahead with my plans. (I'd promised everyone back home I would) I'd also booked a tour to the Grand Canyon and I really wanted to see that. So, I arrived in Vegas to be greeted with some really hot dry weather and shit loads of people, which I guess when you are in that kind of place on your own...nobody notices that you actually are :) I had chosen the Flamingo Hotel on the strip, because it promised to be tacky and they had real flamingos which totally excited me. So I get there and armed with my camera headed out to take in the sights and lights. I walked up and down, through hotels and malls, past pole dancers and high rollers and through the other side. Literally. The next morning I decided to go downtown. I had found a vintage clothing store online which was close to downtown, so I caught a taxi there, then walked the rest of the way. Apparently I shouldn't have done that because that area of town is not considered safe. It looked unsafe...it didn't feel unsafe...apart from the ridiculous amount of drugs I was offered, the ridiculous amount of money for sex I was offered and the packet of cigarettes I gave away. What can I say. Downtown Las Vegas smelt like dirty money and old blood but I did find some very cool shops.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">My highlight of the week was the Grand Canyon. It was breathtaking and exactly how I imagined it would be. I walked out on the glass skywalk, which felt like I was walking on air, over the top of this ridiculously beautiful place that I had only ever read about. It was a little mind blowing and to be honest...I wanted to jump. I'd woken with a migraine headache and did have to push myself through the day...but it was worth it. And I got to meet some Indians, who sang me songs of wisdom and gave me a dream catcher. I'm glad I did it. :)</span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">Oh shit, I almost forgot. I also went to the Hoover Dam, which is spectacular in it's own right. And watched a movie on how it was built. Amazing :)</span></div></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-34496683159329922602010-06-20T12:41:00.007+10:002010-10-28T15:30:35.136+10:00Extreme Gardening<a href="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TB2LRK9p-sI/AAAAAAAAAhw/kImVBrUUoNM/s1600/CoronaInvite_500Pixels.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 266px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5484693048324127426" border="0" alt="" src="http://1.bp.blogspot.com/_XOcX7KvVxVE/TB2LRK9p-sI/AAAAAAAAAhw/kImVBrUUoNM/s400/CoronaInvite_500Pixels.jpg" /></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> I'm not a fit person, contrary to popular belief AND the strangers who are convinced I spend all of my time in a gym. Wrong...I have never set foot in a gym nor do I or have I played sport since I was in the Southport High School Netball team...the one that was kicked out of the all schools competition for head high tackles :/ I was however...a pretty good Water Skier. Barefoot skiing, riding Yamaha peewee's and bungee jumping is as extreme as I have ever gotten. Years of skiing has never done my back any favours, but it was actually a snapped tendon in my left knee 2 years ago, that ended my watery lusty career. My back however is the catalyst for this post, because this week I totally fucked it...gardening. And I mean fucked it as in barely being able to walk and having to take Vicodin (or in Australia I'm assuming that could be close to the Panadeine Forte family). I am hopeless when taking strong painkillers...I throw up and then I sleep and that is exactly what I did on this Vicodin shizzle. The world could have lost it's balance and flown away or disintegrated and I couldn't have given a shit, nothing mattered but the pink cotton candy (which I swear was there) on the ceiling in my bedroom at Trace's house.<br />Why was I gardening? Maybe I was practising to be a mexican so I'd be employed as a gardener. I don't know. I just never expected to be injured planting blue flowers into pottery pots, but of course, I forget sometimes...this is me we are talking about.</span>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-55671874953873543612010-06-14T12:47:00.012+10:002010-10-28T15:31:05.751+10:00Long Beach<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMK6R57WnD3qrIsIURygSBa8fTA5ZHeFq0YaEqTUj2vb32evj1RjE-fCv7DEgQV-AISnOv2LlXJ5NdlmXn1Wheuc6H8xZ5q437f-ZS3Uawc-vywsd7Pnrfq9Izq5IkjwGPnwpeMnQZqkQ/s1600/_DSC6194v.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 400px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 154px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5482462784225443730" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjMK6R57WnD3qrIsIURygSBa8fTA5ZHeFq0YaEqTUj2vb32evj1RjE-fCv7DEgQV-AISnOv2LlXJ5NdlmXn1Wheuc6H8xZ5q437f-ZS3Uawc-vywsd7Pnrfq9Izq5IkjwGPnwpeMnQZqkQ/s400/_DSC6194v.jpg" /></a><br /><div></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">After spending time getting to know (some) of the neighborhoods in Southern California, I have decided Long Beach is my favorite...so far. Apart from finding it's architecture asthetically pleasing...I got a good vibe from it and that's without even meeting it's inhabitants. I feel like it is one of those places that has a bit of 'something for everyone'. Quirky, eccentric, subcultural, ecclectic and down to earth. Even the 'so-called' affluent parts seem to blend in comfortably with the not so. I like that it has more than just 'beach' going for it. Reminds me a little of home. Very cool :) I also ventured into downtown Los Angeles on the train, getting off at the infamous...Union Station (where apparently lot's of movies have been shot) What I like about L.A is the heavy Mexican influence...in particular Olivera St where I wandered through the market streets buying handmade silver jewellery and leather. I also visited the oldest house in L.A, a spanish adobe. I loved the courtyard in the middle. I could imagine sitting in the sun on a Sunday afternoon...sipping fresh iced pomegranate and mint juice, nibbling tacos, smoking havana cigars and talking shit to whoever might listen. I also visited Chinatown which was 'ugh'.</span></div><br /><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"></span></div><div><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I haven't done much shopping since I've been here...well ok...that might be a bit of a lie. I should say I haven't brought anything I can buy at home. I have only fallen for 'unique pieces' whether it be clothing, jewellery or art. I've done pretty well so far for a reasonable amount of money. I'm happy I haven't splurged on trash-ocity :) I have found...by the time taxes and our dollar is converted, things are pretty much on a par between Australia and the U.S, apart from, ironically... alcohol and cigarettes which are way cheaper and can, apparently, kill you :)</span></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-78913691584727386272010-06-05T10:25:00.022+10:002010-10-28T15:31:38.130+10:00Desperation<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_OwkYG117fFDYvBQCv1Jf7qX6oTUjbn0o_m_7p2IReEazaWFsrqyNKhcz66qZjQ7uteJ3IdzC6BqH2GlYOqJoG9BAerWMPmA2x7rh-fVKHB8c5riJs-P3aDHt3Gat-Kl_H5NE_eeMHk/s1600/Desperation2.jpg"><img style="TEXT-ALIGN: center; MARGIN: 0px auto 10px; WIDTH: 279px; DISPLAY: block; HEIGHT: 400px; CURSOR: hand" id="BLOGGER_PHOTO_ID_5479085050926169762" border="0" alt="" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhh_OwkYG117fFDYvBQCv1Jf7qX6oTUjbn0o_m_7p2IReEazaWFsrqyNKhcz66qZjQ7uteJ3IdzC6BqH2GlYOqJoG9BAerWMPmA2x7rh-fVKHB8c5riJs-P3aDHt3Gat-Kl_H5NE_eeMHk/s400/Desperation2.jpg" /></a><br /><div align="left"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">'Old Town' reminds me of a Stephen King novel...that should be (or has it been?) written.</span></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">There are homes here which are well over 100 years old, most of them being extremely well kept and maintained. Most mornings when I walk past the white picket fences, perfectly manicured lawns and American flags...I find myself looking past the front doors, down unlit corridors and into the minds of the 'possibly' not so perfect inhabitants. I imagine them to be murderers, rapists, and domestic abusers. Most of them are likely to be 'none of the above', but....*shrugs* </span></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I find myself drawn to the 'other side of town', you know...past the dive bars, alongside the 'lowriders', behind the railway tracks and wonder why this is the case. I think it might be because I noticed a sign on a storefront window in the 'main town', advertising a local 'freemasons' meeting. It could also be because I had an hallucination in the park (in the middle of 'main town', where the fountain is) a few days ago. I lit a cigarette and was convinced that the old man who walked past me and turned his nose up in disgust at my wretched habit was going to wiggle his bony fingers at me and growl something like "You had to go and ruin it...DIDN"T YOU" and curse me with warts. One house happened to have a large white labrador sitting on it's front porch which I swore (or at least imagined) was a white 'Cujo' that was going to tear apart unsuspecting pets, children, freemason's and big creamy donuts, right before my eyes :)</span></div><div align="left"><br /><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">I've been taking photos of these houses and turning them into something a B grade horror might be proud of... I just hope I don't offend the 'neighbors' with my overactive imagination and my desire for them to secretly be...mutant zombies.</span></div><div align="center"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><br /></span></div><div align="center"></div><div align="center"></div><div></div>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-9774201732456648882010-06-01T10:40:00.016+10:002010-10-28T15:34:32.469+10:00Sugar Shack<span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;">25 Things (pertaining to me)<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">1.</span> I am diagnosed as having 'mild' Aspergers Syndrome and </span><a href="http://www.google.com/url?sa=t&source=web&ct=res&cd=2&ved=0CB0QFjAB&url=http%3A%2F%2Fwww.sleepassociation.org%2Findex.php%3Fp%3Dexplodingheadsyndrome&rct=j&q=exploding+head+syndrome&ei=YFwETMyTKJDKMrDNrTs&usg=AFQjCNH3DufhfXhGA0koyiRvUx2XZA5Ujw&sig2=-SIR6OaE8ET_lftwasXShQ"><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#ffffff;">Exploding Head Syndrome</span></a><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;"> Although, the exploding head thing has been going on for a couple of years...I didn't know what it was actually called, until now :)<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">2.</span> I could lay on the floor of bookstores all day and read biographies on un-famous people, photography and culture.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">3.</span> I conclude before I even know what it is I'm concluding, for fucks sake :<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">4.</span> I love solitary time.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">5.</span> I can no longer drink alcohol, just for the hell of it.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">6.</span> I like gentle people.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">7.</span> I have struggled to find good coffee in Orange County. Really...struggled.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">8.</span> I'm quite reserved and have been thinking about wearing a 'reserved' sign around my neck. I'd like to be less so.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">9.</span> I have been known to go without food for two days.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">10.</span> I have rarely gone without a cigarette or coffee for two days.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">11.</span> I love unique-ness in all it's undignified glory.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">12.</span> I'm routine...but spontaneously combustible.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">13.</span> I rarely lose my cool, unless I'm putting something together or taking it apart and it's not happening.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">14.</span> I absolutely adore live music. I love it loud, bad and wrong.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">15.</span> I rarely follow style. I have my own and live by it.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">16.</span> I can be moody and dark and love and light...all in one day! :<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">17.</span> I love rolling around in mud, camping and sleeping under the stars.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">18.</span> I dwell on warm showers, coconut cream, memories and hearts.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">19.</span> I'm a wallflower.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">20.</span> I would like an old house painted black, with lot's of blue and red flowers.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">21.</span> I dig things that swing...like chairs, tree swings and music.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">22.</span> I am fascinated by death, cemetaries and epitaphs, though I have yet to see a ghost and I know plenty of them.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">23.</span> Creativity is my therapy.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">24.</span> I'm blonde.<br /><br /><span style="color:#333300;">25.</span> I have no boobs, but I love vinyl and cassette tapes...and if you love those, then you don't need boobs :) </span><span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><em>or something like that...<br /></em><br />;)</span></span>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-8260182499381328612.post-29204678732029794872010-05-26T11:25:00.026+10:002010-08-17T06:31:50.019+10:00but I'm in California<span style="font-size:85%;"><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#666666;">:) (I can blog because I have a new laptop)<br /><br />The reference to Tarantula's (in case you didn't notice) comes from a Museum I visited recently in Melbourne....where I spent an hour or so completely ensconced in the spider haven. I stood there wondering what would happen if you could train Tarantula's to perform circus acts and take them around the world...umm anyway...<br /><br />I arrived in Kalifornia. My flight was not the best, but I figured it is only 14 hours of 'slight discomfort' to endure. I had the sweetest old french woman sitting next to me who made a wonderful travelling companion, although she did insist I try some of her hand cream which I assumed would be french joi de ve or something similar but instead smelt like...shit. oui<br /><br />My friend Trace picked me up from the Airport, where once again, I was searched...and thoroughly this time....by a female officer. I don't know what they would expect I might have on me....drugs? tarantulas? a pistol strapped to my thigh? Ha! I've been here four days? five? and the jetlag has killed me....last visit I didn't notice it...this time I have....but I don't think I'm quite the same. It is probably only today that I have felt I am beginning to tackle the time difference. It is also....fucking freezing. Sunny...but fucking freezing at night. I have a little smoking area out the back of Trace's, where I sit with my legs pulled tight against my chest like a kidlet...banished from society for being caught...being naughty. In order not to feel like an imposter in my friends home (I'm more than likely going to feel that way wherever I go regardless) I decided that I would pay my way by doing jobs for her....cleaning around her windows and yard, some office work and teaching her to cook healthy Australian food :/ I'll start with a braised beef and vegetable stir fry (sounds chinese....which reminds me) A man asked me where I was from. "Australia" I replied. "Aaah" he said "Isn't it true Australia has very close ties with China"? I wouldn't have a clue....but I did reply with "Yes...we are conspiring to blow America and the rest of the world up!....unless of course you guys have close ties with Russia...in which case our plan might backfire" :) But more than anything else I have been mistaken for being English...I think it's because I don't say much and by the time I do....everyone has gone home. :) </span><br /><span style="color:#666666;"></span><br /></span></span><span style="font-family:verdana;font-size:85%;color:#666666;">I'm here for three months-ish, so I figured it pointless to just rush out and do eveything within the first week, therefore I've been pretty quiet...doing a lot of walking, scouring bookstores and vintage clothing stores (Robyn if you are reading this, you would be salivating in your pants...trust me) I've concluded....although I have known for many years that I am plainly and simply....an oddball. As I find my mind, feet and gravitation...I have also concluded that I detest department stores, I eat air and I appear to be more interested in stopping on roads I don't know, chatting with people who stand on the footpath twirling 'Subway' signs and giving cigarettes to strangers :) Oh, which reminds me....a packet of Pall Mall....$4.50 ugh....compared to the $15-$20 we pay back home for our death sticks...lonesome highway robbery!<br /><br />It's cool....and so are you mi amigos ;)<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /></span><span style="font-family:verdana;"><span style="color:#666666;"></span></span>Helenhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/03914535254603365583noreply@blogger.com5