Most Things Come In Twos.

Today is the beginning of Splendour. I can't believe the day is already here are that I'm not there. I'm happy for the people who have the privilege to go though. I have friend there who said she'd dance just a little for me, which (coupled with listening to Grizzly Bear all morning) has eased my soul. I will make it my mission to see every one of the bands I wanted to at Splendour next year. It'll happen, I'm sure.

I'll Shove it All to the Floor Boards

After months of not listening to them, I have finally started to listen to TV on the Radio again. Every one of their songs, from Playhouses to Starring at the Sun, deserves to have new emotions named after them. Such a stirring and incredible band. I have missed the goosebumps they always give me.

Billows of Pillows

A friend of mine once described the sky to me as being "like a watercolour painting".

Now everytime I look at the sky I paint it in my head.

Bushwalk

I miss clean air.

There Will Be No Miracles Here

(Photo by Ito Yukikazu)

I think that today, more then any other day this year, has made me wish that I was permanently in a film. A Jim Jarmusch film where every aspect of my life was strangely spectacular. Every insignificant thing that I would do would be emphasised and given significance. That's what I want, significance. Unfortunately my life if not the film A Night On Earth and the weight of high-school reality is heavier then ever.

Hedi Silmane

I just thought it was important to mention him. Hedi Silmane is a French fashion designer, but as you can see he also takes wonderful photographs. I first met his work in my first Dazed and Confused copy (my favourite copy I might add). He really captures the beauty and the curiosity of youth, and through his pictures I have been reminded that at this point in my life I shouldn't have a care in the world. It is with this that I promise myself I will strive for carelessness.

It's about time I lived every night like a Friday night.

Future Memory

For too long I have wanted to move out of home and live for myself. Make my own terrible meals, clean my own tiny little flat, and go without necessities so I can afford electricity. We make our own fate in my opinion, and the fate I want to make is one of a skint student who cuts her own hair and sleeps on a mattress on the floor.

That's the life.

Even Killers Get the Blues

Today I saw a man on the bus who could have easily been mistaken as Australia's Most Wanted. He looked like he had just killed a little animal.

I was sitting about five seats from the back, and he was sitting on the opposite side right at the front. Next to him was a tiny old lady, and behind him sat two even more small and older women. At first the man, whose large lumbering body was greatly emphasised by the physique's of his neighbours, spent his time glancing around the bus suspiciously. Certain people that caught his stare made his eyes grow, but eventually he retreated form this game and sunk his head into his hands.

I couldn't tell you if this made him look more suspect or more sad. However, his head soon raised back up to the clustered atmosphere of the bus when one of the elderly ladies behind him tapped on his shoulder. I presume she asked the man for directions, for the next five minutes was spent with him explaining routes with his hands and jumping up to talk to the bus driver on behalf of the lady. Once the old woman got of the bus, the man finally sunk back into his seat.

He looked content.

Even killers can be gentlemen.