My last offering for Monday ( which is now Tuesday) This is the view out my kitchen window. This is what I get to look at when I do the washing up. This is what many places are like , here in England. Little corners, tucked away. Full of cars that you'll never see anyone drive. It's quaint, isnt it. Goodnight readers :)
But I like Goats cheese? Anyway, this is me at uhhhh... hmm. Ithink about 4. Ish. Santa's village, making the rounds, hanging with the wild beasties. I dont remember this day, save for when we were leaving and my mother did what all mother's tend to do at least once. She said, ' Fine, stay here on your own. '
And sort of walked away. From an adult perspective, I now know she wasnt actually abandoning me, but Id like to stand up for all the wee people in the world and say, ' Parents? That friggan sucks. Stop that. No seriously. It isnt funny. You may find it endearing for your child to suddenly stop stomping his or her feet because they dont want to get out of the Mcdonalds ball pit and run at you like you're a Saint..but its horrible to go thru. Trust me on this. 10 seconds of feeling your parent(s) are abandoning you is not worth the sick amusement you seem to glean from such a situation. Get some friggan parenting classes. '
Well that was a rant, but I think it was some 24 years overdue. Yeah Im bitter lol. Anyways, to get back to the beasties, I cant remember hanging out with these smelly things. I think the look on my face sums it up. Im not a happy camper, even if I do look like a little anime ninja. ( thanks mom, a rare outfit success for you! Joking. ) That is a look of a child who is mortified by these ghastly split eyed goats. Blegh I say.
I decided if Im going to put up a silly, probably embarrasing photograph of my little brother, I should probably have one of myself up. Its only fair. So here I am, the Easter Egg Thief of 1980 or 81. I still make that face. I still like eggs.
This is a dream. When she closes her eyes, the pictures come, riding along the fine hairs of her neck and draining all sense away, like perspiration. Leaving only the dream, and what lingers in her mind after the lights go out. A favourite smell, a forgotten taste. Fingertips on shoulders as one recalls some distant embrace. What we dream we often forget, just after the first cup of coffee. The last of a good nights sleep falls off , discarded, replaced by a day heavy with thoughts. Meetings, agendas, responsibility. Dissapointment and success. More coffee and you might stare out of your office window, or chance to look up while you walk down the street, with your mind playing at introspect. In that moment the dream remembers you, echoing in a familiar gaze, that favourite smell, that taste. Those fingertips now on your spine, unwilling to let go.
A broken wheelbarrow, with random builder detritus. Yeah thats sexy. Just above and out of sight is a Hot Dog stand. There is no better view than from the windows of your Manchester Starbucks. ( near Piccadilly Gardens )
A moment's peace off Oxford Road. This is a work in progress, trying to choose which one is the Best, as I took this from a couple of angles last week. I really want this to be as perfect as can be. I have my reasons.
I pass this every morning as I head to work, and every morning I think I should take a picture. So I took the picture, and what did I do? I made it black and white. Odd that. It wasnt a terrible picture in colour, just didnt move me as much as it does now. Perhaps I think all of England should be thrust back into its silvery industrial past, with stark buildings and lazy canals. The way the clouds seem to wander aimlessly across the sky and the trees stretch painfullly for even the smallest amount of sunlight. If you look to the right, just on the horizon there is a higher point of a building, just strutting out from above the buildings in the foreground. That is the local church, St. Paul's. And just 5 houses down? My own flat. So there I am, really. And here you are.
Walking behind St.Pauls church ( Sale, UK) I spotted this bit of graffiti and had to snap a photograph. Part of me feels a bit sick, because Im really a fan of churches big and small ; seeing one with graffiti makes me a grumpy person. But it is Sale, after all. Not exactly the poshest of places.
Im tapping my fingers on the keyboard, thinking. There is a lot to do, a lot of time to do it in, but like a spoiled child I want it all now. Must remind myself that art takes time, and I dont have the strength of a titan. I need to pace myself.
So whats going to fill this space? I dont know. I know what I need to do ; need to build a new page, possibly build off this blog, or else start fresh on a more manipulatable canvas. Build up and start advertising my photography and possibly my writing. ( focus more on the former) Im tired of this being a hobby. Im beginning to realise I might have some gifts here.
First thing, need to find a good place to put up my photos in a more categorised state. Tried yahoo, and for some reason ( before I had put my nudes up) it was slapping my hands and giving the Adult Content speech. I find this very limiting, honestly. I immediately mocked yahoo by supplying it with the necessary photographs to fullfill my reputation. *shrugs* I do need a better place to put all this stuff. I need to archive as well, thats going to be really hellish. But once its done, Ill be pleased that all my work is in one place. Im not even going to try organising it into something functional, like chronological order - that would turn my head to mush. At this very moment I have at least...at the very least, 3000 photographs. Some rubbish, some not so rubbish. Id say out of that mass , about 50% are postable/sellable/etc. Thats not too bad..I feel a bit narcissistic because a huge percentage of the entire lot are self portraits. Im not really that crazy about my own face or body, I was just available. And cheap.
I also need to start gathering some proper models. Ive had a few chances to work with local models in the past, and unfortunately lost them because I didnt have a studio. If this damned English weather would ever brighten I could at least go outdoors, but at the moment its all sleet and rain and grumbly skies. Spring is soon enough though, we shall see.
This post is very dull lol. But its helping me unload my brain a bit.
Call me crazy, if you will, but this AM I tried to add a few WishListy things to my Froogle and found myself to be terribly dissapointed. Why? Well, it wont let me add a horse. Yeah, a horse. Those of you who may browse my meager listing ( Im sure I will come up with something else to put on there) will observe a dandy acrylic painting of a Friesian Horse named Jonah ( whynot? ). This is as close as Froogle would let me come to putting Jonah himself on my wishlist. I suppose its a bit extravagant to expect such allowances. One doesnt normally look at thier shopping list and see, Apples, Orange Juice, Toilet Paper, Friesian Horse, beef, and so forth. Sadly, there are people out there who Do have the resources to have such a list, but these sort of people dont keep lists per say, they have minions who have someone else keep the list and present it installed on a shiny blackberry delicately placed on a silver platter.
So yeah, I want a horse. Its a funny thing really, Ive never actually ridden a horse. When I was about 4-5 I rode a pony at Santa's village, but somehow being on top of a chained up pony going in a circle isnt really something you remember into your 20s. If it wasnt for the photographs, Id not know at all. And yet I want a horse. I keep telling H that I should go and ride one, as England is absolutely bursting with riding farms, so that I can at least find out if I actually will really hate it. That and the older I get, the more brittle my bones are. Falling hurts. So why a Friesian? Ah. Well its that or a Black Clydesdale, and those are even harder to come by. Friesian's are still pretty huge, would tower over me Im sure. Graceful, intelligent, charismatic beasts they are. They were used by armoured knights historically, because they are strong enough to handle a man and his armour and weapons and still be able to run and turn swiftly. So I want one. Nur. My long term, extremely nothing more than a fantasy, goal is to move to Ireland, buy a Friesian and grow old happy. This will not happen, lol. The closest Im going to get is maybe going and riding one somewhere and probably falling off and at least dying happy. Its the little things that count.
7 Am. I have woken to realise that there is only 3% water pressure in the flat. The shower tries to impress me with its sputtering, hoping Ill stand around long enough for that mess to become something useful. I shut it off and contemplate my options. There arent many. There is nothing to warm the water with, thanks to Britain having something against Plugs in the bathroom. ( I would have tried to set up the electric kettle, otherwise, but it wouldnt even fit under the tap and there is even less pressure in the kitchen) So I settled for washing my hair, since I was NOT going to work like that, with a teacup and 10 mins of water saved up in the sink. Let me tell you..that was a painful experience, and I am not joking. If you can imagine how painful it is to have your hands in icecold water, or just in snow for instance, imagine that as your entire head. I have to admit I cried out once or twice, all in vain.
Now it is 8 am, I have to leave for work soon. To make my situation worse, I have a severe toothache ( thank heavens for wisdom teeth, eh?) and that just makes things worse. But Im not going to let it get me down. No no, Ive popped some ibuprofren, Ive gotten dressed, Ive accepted that I will not be a rosey fresh customer assistant this day. At least Ill look and smell like my customers! Ok, so Im not THAT bad.
To entertain myself, I went looking for what Iceland has to offer the children of the World.
Hey WOW! Damn I wish I was a kid and I could spend my mornings watching LazyTown. Ill write more about it in my next post, Im just smitten with this vid, its so absolutely wierd and yet..rather well done. By that, I mean he makes a good pirate and normally you get rubbish pirates on kids tele. Take the piss pirates, I call them.
And with that, Im off to dabble in the world of photography.
ok so I cant even joke about this. Im in pink! Its very nearly pepto bismol pink as well. Ooers.. I can fix whatever ails you. Except for blindness, cant fix that. Yet. More tests. More funding, and then more tests. More lab mice. Thats a joke. Seriously.
Fashion. Ill never understand it. Im all for sunglasses, dont get me wrong. As photo sensitive as my eyes are, I need them to be able to withstand even early morning daylight, let alone a full on summer haze. But look at these things. I look like I should be some insectoid super heroine. I am the Weevil. It is bizarre. On the other hand, I look a lot like nearly every brit-celeb on the market at the moment, so I should be proud. Or just hang myself.
Dear self, I wondered if you could take a few minutes out of your completely unbusy schedule to answer some questions for your would be readers?
Im game for that, go ahead.
What are you doing right now?
Im answering your questions. I thought that was obvious.
We meant more generally.
How many are there of you? I cant say I even see one person, as this is a sort of spooky inside-your-head conversation , and giving you a body would be a bit much, dont you think?
We are the mass collective of your memories, fantasies and ambitions.
Good for you. What was the question again?
What, in general, are your actions currently, aside from attending this interview?
Is it an interview?
If you like.
If you're the inside of my head, should you have to ask?
You are confusing the issue, Madam.
tsk. Well currently I am sat in front of my pc, Im uploading a vid unto youtube, and CSI Vegas has just popped up on tele. Im pondering dinner, because stew sounds nice.
What sort of pc is it?
Who bloody cares?
The collective cares.
Rubbish, a collective doesnt have feelings.
Yes we do.
Oh yeah? What are you doing for Valentines day then? Hmm?
Does not compute. We do however believe that banana colour is not an appropriate answer.
So?
Nor is plastic colour.
That is because you are a mass collective of human drama, fantasy and mental illness. You should be so lucky as to have original thoughts and feelings of your own. If you had, you would be able to realise the subtle beauty in a piece of plastic, or warm textures that make up the colour of a banana. So nur.
