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Monday, November 13th, 2006
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6:31 pm - the past few years
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So whats yr caper, baker, troublemaker? The past few days have been awesome.
- went to eumunti to chill and twas good vibes. missed road trips too much.
- finished school for the year and it really is cancun. spring break! haha. feel so relieved after all the work. it's been a pretty good year.
- as soon as i finished my last critique i got a phonecall saying i have a job at the GoMA. Freaking excited as hell.
- still contemplating whether i should study in the netherlands next semester.
- think i am going to hitch from adelaide to melbs for new years... encouragement! only thing to sort out is work.
- tutts sadly left our house and is actually sorely missed. new housemate soon!
- anyone going anywhere for a swim these days should take me. i provide food AND entertainment. errrrrrr.
oh and i got these developed today...
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| Monday, October 9th, 2006
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4:50 pm
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vs.
Sometimes I think of how predictable everything really is… like when you see those two looking at nature and you know they’re in for. 25 ta life. Maybe something a little more fleeting. morosely creeping. Maybe it’s just a product of pomo, of revisionism at its best. Where modernism taught us how to move and shake and where how to move with only two feet? Fear of heights. Fight or flight. We’re stuck in this entropic state, it’s a beast to tell you the least. Where we’ve learnt all the techniques. Where we’ve learnt how to sway, not to stay. Where we can’t find a way out. Where’s the continuity?
How this form is too organic though it shouldn’t be. [resistance to our environment] Not now of all times. Lapses.
And she’s got those lips, the ones you held to kiss, the ones you swore yourself to one night and then it’s gone. And it’s never the fucking same. Not playing this game. Pre fucking ordained? Or just fucking plain.
How transition works. How death holds your life in place. How change once meant something less sanctimonious. How you virility kept itself alive. How I could swallow those fucking eyes. Those restless meandering eyes.
A tender taught terrible terrible wish. It was so sick. You stop in your tracks and count backwards again. Read a little more Auster and you’re lost in this soul. Old soul, tread to shreds.
So where will you be waiting for that midnight flicker. A spark so dense with no consequence. Nothing to lose, no plans, rainchecks, accepted.
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| Monday, September 18th, 2006
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11:48 am
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El Bloodlines
Uhhhhhhhhhhhrghhhhhhhmmmmmmmaaahhhhh
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| Monday, September 4th, 2006
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1:45 pm
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note to self: whats the use of being here if you're not trying anything new.
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| Sunday, June 11th, 2006
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2:58 pm
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TALK BY LIZZIE CAREY-THOMAS (turner prize) - http://www.tate.org.uk/britain/turnerprize/2003/artists_curators.htm
Appropriate material from all over cultural landscape – art history, consumer culture, philosophical theory
Visceral reaction from their audience.
Mannequins with genitals.
Aesthetic of horror and obscenity – genitals
Dealing religiously with aesthetics of war
Insult to injury – goya. Seminal series Disasters of war
Graffitied systematically over the top.
Critics
Enhanced despair goya felt – ambiguous in meaning. Are they doing something as act of desecration or homage. Chapmans more ambiguous with their work.
Chapmans dismissed as subversive wit and black humour…
Serious about what they do.
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| Monday, April 17th, 2006
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3:03 am - fabrication
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Its almost like a heart praising god and the stigmata that comes, when your mother reminds you of a photo your grandmother kept of her long distance lover that bled for his love. Its the stigma attached when you're filling the air with "a prisoner of this town" and "where is the rain" when the weather is a little less damp and folds you like you contemplate folding yourself.
And you gots ta think with clarity and some reason but you're all chaos and beliggerence. That friend you held five years ago who's not here anymore, and its always your best leaving you behind. Is this what they call collatarel damage? due process? an indictment you forgot when you were busy staring out that window or into the dirrrrrt. No wonder the gardens overgrown. Its not like we needed it anyway. Not like that.
I was wondering whether it would be alright to start again yet. Or when I'd see it wasnt you I wasnt forgetting. I fucking scratched my throat looking for that certainty, some sort of clarity. Managed to croak some words that would make it seem alright. Sorry madam, we only have size seven. Theres no epiphanies here from this bleedin pen, no no. This is for all our deadly deadly sins. The wires that get crossed and when you get cross or I get cross, and its that tape loop of non stop hip hop til you dont stop all night in a late night diner in the middle of my system. No apologies.
Whats missing here? Why has everything got to be intellect versus intuition. We're getting colder. And colder still. Its so still. I forgot how to pretend to have no regrets. I'm not sorry either. Whats anything without its history. Whats a book without my tired eyes trying to read its cracked, yellowed pages. A thesis handed back to me with a circle of red wine imprinted, a few rogue hairs straggled out from your ears. Your eyes actually seemed to breathe that night... mine too. Paranoia and passion.
You find your home and the bells toll backwards count from 10. A shadow of a preacher standing still. Bernini with a black heart. Miller with a man. A story told too long ago and it wanes and fades and becomes part of the Huangpu River. A small boy waiting for a train waiting for the metallic sound of the train running the tracks a few miles away. A factory outside the train thats been given no name. We've let go of the static.
I love you. We always said love was extreme.
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| Thursday, January 5th, 2006
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11:11 pm
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| Thursday, December 8th, 2005
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2:38 am - violence breeds violence
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dear diary,
sorry i havent utilized your fine fine services of late, i have been rather busy thinking about silly trivial things, cramming my head full of useless junk that will probably, eventually, cause my head to implode. that being said... i was speaking to a friend the other night about apathy. what is with apathy. and why is being so fucking empty so fucking fulfilling to so many people these days? is it that we need drama in our lives? because maybe the emptiness causes drama? or that maybe it is all just a bunch of self serving existentialist allegory. what a contradiction.
i have been working my days at a department store, selling shoes. shoes. yes... you read it and now you'll read it again. shoes. thats consumed quite alot of my time. been thinking a whole lot about getting out of this insular as fuck town to somewhere where i can be anonymous. where i can walk the streets at 4am. go swimming in the ocean. where i dont have any expectations.
there is this man who comes up to me every now and then and tells me how much he loves my hair. i mean... its weird that someone can be so in love with something thats so non-sensory. maybe. anyway, the other day he asked me if i wanted to try something new with him. i found that utterly baffling and walked on wishing him a good time. then i ran into a guy who told me the world was going to end because today is the 4th, and 4 represents a door... heaven/hell and we are all going to hell because the bad spirits from middle earth are going to ascend tonight. and he was rambling so much stuff... it was really quite amazing. kinda like kafka on the shore for the real world. haha. the real world.
...i am a list of things to do...
.stop resenting yourself.
.start doing the things you believed you loved and/or believe you love doing.
.stop taking things so gad damn seriously. things sometimes have to make less sense than this.
.send the letters i write and stop holding the fuck back.
hope you're all doing well. sorry about my whinging. and naivity... just trying for once to try and regain some sort of thought process... not such an easy thing to do.
masses of love!
xo sarah
current mood:  drained
current music: jose gonzalez
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| Tuesday, October 25th, 2005
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7:12 pm
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i have this friend who i hope i run into one day who misses communism and eating condensed milk out of a jar instead of chocolate. they played a game when they were younger where the prize was a piece of chocolate and when it was their turn to eat that piece of chocolate, they had to put a scarf over their heads and eat it with a knife and fork. he believes in innocence.
i have a friend who is so fucking strong and i love her to bits and she inspires the fuck out of me when she shows what she can do and how she follows through.
i have a friend who is my shit talker, a real fucking corker. he's half into hope and reads marquez and has a body built to spill. a cockpouch suitable for a king.
i have this friend who survived on his own in that big bad world who writes on walls and has a shoe fetish.
i have a wolf in my ear tells me nothing i wanna hear.
i have a friend with a funny accent that i love to listen to. he talks about weird food, and familiar feelings.
i have a friend who teaches things he knows more about than anyone else. he was my secret lover til he decided to leave.
i have these amazing people in my life who take amazing photographs with amazing verocity and amazing soul and its fucked they can capture something so accurately you feel like you're lying.
i have this guy who i occasionally see only when he runs into me and he is so fucking sweet it makes me want to puke. he has this skin i want to be in.
i have this friend who was occupying my tar filled heart who doesnt know what to do but dont we all? he has it all in him he just needs to get it out. he's been a world away and five years in the past. he neednt give up.
i have a garden that needs tending to so if you have some time and some hands that need to be dirtied, feel free to drop by and dip em in some dirrrt.
so what about this myth of sisyphus ,and this perpetual motion, the in and out they talk about?
maybe its too late to find out.
current mood:  curious
current music: shy child
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| Tuesday, October 11th, 2005
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5:30 pm
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| Thursday, September 29th, 2005
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11:16 am - pretty by the wayside
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Impending doom seems so fucking inevitable these days. its just there all seething in yr fuckin veins. yr fucking vain.
Havent really been doing much at all lately apart from getting tasty with the newsagent next to the library. Saw Serenity the other day and dont get me wrong, it wasnt the worst movie ever, but WHAT THE FUCK HAPPENED TO JOSS WHEDON. Maybe it is true that when you grow oldre (yes, oldre) you only keep your fucking youth, your sicccck golden you, and re-use it while the worlds moving forward. Mayyyybe. Or maybe its all circumstancial.
Moshi moshi. Yesterday I watched that whole Ghibli doco and it was awesome. Godamn I wish I had the energy right now to be like that. I cant even draw a fucking cat. What is wrong with me!!!!!??? I have to get my folio ready within 3 weeks and havent done any significant art this year apart from this painting that I want to throw into the ocean. Along with everything else.
Maybe I should just get the fuck back on top of things. Fuck shit up and be my old self again. Breathe on peoples necks in the bank. Haha awesome. Not many people know that person I guess. Or maybe thats what he wanted... stop thinking and it will be alright. Well I'm sorry kid, thats not the way it works. Its not the way I work. as a well versed woman once said to me, maybe we're too fucking crazy for you. for anyone. and thats the way it is. Wake me when yr through bein cool cuz I'm snoring. And hoping...
Goddamn give me some kicks. Upside. Upstroke. Backstroke. Backstreet. Soapbox. IN YR FUCKING FACE!!!! Man.
ps. i'm not so fucking scared of you.
current mood:  aggravated
current music: shy child
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| Wednesday, September 14th, 2005
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11:19 pm - half empty?
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its so old this whole thinkin bout skin n bones and structure and blah blah blah.
need to get my folio together to apply for universitay. maybe if i had a little space. maybe i should rent out that studio i have been eyeing. eying. ??????? anyway i really want to be doing things and need some room to do it.
hmmmm. theres this really really weird austrian movie on sbs at the moment called dog days. i think i am walking in at the wrong times. like when the lady is cutting her pubic hair. amazing. floral. gahhhhhhhhhh.
just finished reading kundera book ignorance and it was really full on considering timing. i think i felt sick through most of the book actually. its was good though. pretty different to his other books. finally got comic in the mail. amazing. annnnd.
this post is going to be about my cats. just because.
this is my cat molleh. aka. molla, mollakin, schatz, arsehole, shonste butsa.
mollehs hobbies include hitting me on the face to wake me up. also, trying to pretend like i'm the cat and she's the human. and acting like she owns all the good spots to sleep. rolling in the leaves. eating grass. looking nonchalant. clawing blankets and oher inanimate objects. hating on other cats.
this is mitsy. kinda rhymes with fitzy but lets not talk about that. aka. moitsa, mutsi, boopale, fatty, herzicatzi.
mitsy is weird. she blinks her eyes really slowly sometimes when she is freaking out. like when she doesnt want molleh to hit her. she sometimes gets these crazy fits where she runs around the house randomly and she is the super fastest of all the cats i have ever seen. no shit. used to suckle on woolen things. if she doesnt like someone she runs away from them. thats what she is good at. hating on merly.
and my merly. aka. moots, fluffycat, grumps, kleine mootsi.
merlin doesnt really like to hang out that much. her best friend died recently and she is real sad. she tries to play with the other cats but they dont want a bar of it. likes eating hair, being hand fed, being shaved. prone to playing crazy and biting random things.
this ones name is bruce lee. he is too elusive so i dont really know. enough said.
ok this is just something i thought was cool. i think you had to see it up close.
some pidgeon.
hope y'all doing wellllll and not winding too hard.
xo
current mood: curious
current music: shy child
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| Monday, August 29th, 2005
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10:54 pm - bronx vs southcentral
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we dont like it when the city people act crooked when the city people crooked then we cant get dowwwn.
we dont like it when the city bitches break wings when the bitches break wings then we cant get dowwn.
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| Wednesday, August 24th, 2005
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11:03 pm
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So the past few days have been tiring indeed. Being an alcoholic doesnt help. So I didnt do that, no no no. Saying that though, smoking countless cigarettes is probably not very good for frail lungs and hearts and blood in general. pants co. murder on the dancefloor.
I havent seen a photo of me when I was young for a very long time and my aunty in austria seemed to have a heap so I took a photo of a photo. probably not the best idea. I also found this tape of my parents and us when I was like 4, and I had the highest pitched voice in the world and spoke all in german and my parents had really thick austrian accents which I couldnt understand.
jesus, army.
me, hanging out on a rock, as per usual.
pretty self explanitory dont you think? I especially like the logo. and the fact that some dude witha misfits shirt is walking out of there.
some little known artist who painted some wall. doesnt he know its illegal?
dear tim, i know you are like 35, but right now i wanna be drinking tea with you in the basement of a house too old to hold us. love, sarah.
oh by the way... american office pales in comparison. sooooo unbelievably bad. is it true channel 10 are going to be playing the office now? Please say its not.
Boy, were you ever right Jawbreaker, were you ever righhhht.
rip heart. [bye bye little kitten. lovered you]
current mood:  hopelessly fucked
current music: big black
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| Tuesday, August 23rd, 2005
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10:21 pm
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seriously.
dont believe anyone. its never the fucking truth.
teen angst since 96'
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| Friday, July 29th, 2005
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11:50 am
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Does everyone like my new tanka poem? I just wrote it down so I could remember the structure of Tanka. Thankyou very much.
goodmorning arsehole
you ate my fucking pancake
now is time to kill
lets have a party yonder
eat my donga you fucker
Also need to remind myself to look at these authors:
Tawada Yôko
Tsushima Yûko
Shimada Masahiko
Miyabe Miyuki
Yamada Amy
Saw The new Willy Wonka yesterday and it was really cool. Like completely different. Like heaps psychotic as well... I think I would be more scared of this one if I was a kid now. Or even not a kid. Pretty amazing.
Miss y'all. If anyone knows a cheap way to get across america, I am still looking. I so do not want to spend 3 days on a greyhound.
xo
current mood: crushed
current music: futurama
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| Friday, July 22nd, 2005
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11:45 am
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OK, so does anyone on here know what the cheapest way from Toronto to Washington would be (maybe rentacar??) or...
the cheapest way to get across the US without taking 2 weeks.
Help would be very much appreciated.
xo
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| Thursday, July 21st, 2005
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11:49 am
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I love it here. There are too many abandoned buildings to know what you should do with them. The most awesome indoor skate park I have seen. Too much culture, instead of too little. What is that anyway... I mean, why cant culture be sitting at home smoking your cigarettes alone and talking to yourself or that guy who ripped you off, or ripped your heart out all those years ago. Or getting pregnant at 16. Teen dream. So it seems.
The markets were amazing. I found some really cool stuff. Contemplating buying this accordion if I can get the guy to cut me a deal. Hah... Tara said she was going to buy a lamp from the markets and he wanted to charge €100, and she got him down to 5. Hopefully I can do something of that calibre. Ayoy accordion.
I wanted to download a heap of pictures too, but that damn Kodak fucking broke. Why did I even buy Kodak in the first place? Maybe it serves me right. Arseholes. So no pictures. I cant wait to be making prints again. And going to school. Hoorah! Haha.
Kinda wish I was the one to leave. xo
current mood: sore back owwwwww
current music: tar... feathers
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| Friday, July 15th, 2005
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11:16 am
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I totally met Ian fucking Hewitson today in Berlin. So stoked. He even poured oil and salt all over me and he nearly ate me, but then I had a word to him about his exessive use of oil, and he understood that to shed a few kilos, or as Lame Beachly would say "(when I'm not surfing) I pack on the kilos", he should maybe only eat one portion of hot red meat per day. Ewwwwww. Anyway, altogether it was a very positive experience. Here is a photo.
"Dr Nelson said Australians needed to realise that if they were to live with the benefits of nuclear science they had to accept nuclear waste as a realistic part of that. All Australians already lived with nuclear waste in their backyards, he said."
Dr Nelson knows what Australians want. And the Brisbane press have awesome grammar.
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| Thursday, July 14th, 2005
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6:58 pm
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 | You scored as Postmodernist. Postmodernism is the belief in complete open interpretation. You see the universe as a collection of information with varying ways of putting it together. There is no absolute truth for you; even the most hardened facts are open to interpretation. Meaning relies on context and even the language you use to describe things should be subject to analysis.
Postmodernist | | 81% | Cultural Creative | | 81% | Romanticist | | 75% | Existentialist | | 75% | Modernist | | 56% | Fundamentalist | | 56% | Materialist | | 56% | Idealist | | 50% | </td>
What is Your World View? (updated)
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youwereintheair's journal
