(sometimes I write these things down and by the time I'm finished uploading the photos it all seems so boring)
WRAPPED UP LIKE A DOUCHE
I am deeply in love with you, life.
You are the most faithful boyfriend I've ever had.
You share with me delights that seem unworldly to my molding-brain.
There are some times when I realise that I'm living.
Sometimes it can be just one moment, sunshine catching on blood red nail-polish, or that plastic crunching sound when cars ride over snow
I reckon Im pretty lucky to notice them and breathe, Im pretty lucky to be able to smile about them after,
and then take a photograph and share them with you.
HIGH: walking across Williamsburg bridge from Manhattan because of not having enough money to catch the train
HIGH: hanging out with Cole, the ultimate sticker fiend. Puts stickers on sunglasses, phones, pictures stolen from thrift stores and wears them as accessories
HIGH: walking through the streets every day, past Anthony Lister paintings & Mexican men smoking in the sunshine
HIGH: smoking on the fire escape with friends, watching China, wearing t-shirts in the winter
HIGH: being high with people who wear ripped Margiela tuxedos and sneakers
HIGH: jogging on the street near the east river looking for graffiti, Pavlova & solar-powered crystal rainbow makers
HIGH: I have come that you may have life and have it abundantly
HIGH: sitting near Josh Hartnet & Helena Christianson in jumpers with shoulder pads, and fish and chips and vegimite and baby puppy dogs with little tounges
HIGH: fragile walls & daylight moon shine, warehouses filled with vintage clothing or photographs or kittens for adoption...
HIGH: girlfriends. room mates. boys from ESPN & Denmark. comfortingly familiar darling people to share plum wine with in the spooking hours.
HIGH: not coming home for 3 days because my cotton t-shirt didn't feel that dirty & the world kept feeding me joy & vodka & duck and plums and friends.
HIGH: plastic staircases and silver Dolce & Gabbana
HIGH: German girls with big smiles who sleep on the couch and invite me to have coffee with her friend Terry Richardson. Esther smiled when the baseball player got high and moved out at 4am to escape to Florida (New York, he loved you, but you got him down)
HIGH: spending time at SkyNET with China outside being blown up by little kids with poppers & then reconstructed by NYPD with coloured paper & sparkling rockets
HIGH: afternoon sunshine & chive dumplings & mango bubble cups in Soho parks
HIGH: heckling fixed gear bicycle riders who play hockey in the car park. agh stupid lesbians with poor coordination & rude alpha-males who throw snow at people with the hockey pucks and beat their chest in moron code for "go team"
HIGH: homeless people with carriages of glitter & gold with painted dog friends and outfits worthy of featuring in the Satorialist (if the world wasn't so mainstream)
HIGH: telling people why Lucy can't ride a bicycle....
because Lucy was a fish
bleh. my eyeballs hurt. blogging is so lame. I'm embarrassed of myself. this is not creative expression. this is bullshit.