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Do it without me, do it when i’m gone. Do it without me, do it when it’s wrong

It’s been a roller coaster of a day, of a week; an absolute storm in my head. Which is fitting that I happened to stumble on this photo that I took in Sydney last year – it’s pretty much a visual representation of how my mind feels like right now. In constant motion. Multi-faceted and slightly confusing. Several planes functioning at the same time…

Sydney, 2010.

As per mentioned earlier this week, I’ve decided to compile a playlist. This one is mostly consisted of music I’ve acquired recently, which have been on high rotation. As usual, I’m absolutely anal over the number of tracks and the order that they go in – and I’m still not perfectly happy with the lack of flow in some places, but there’s not much more I can do right now except post the darn thing!

1. Four More Years – Teen Daze
So the most recent evidence of the boy’s influence on my music taste is “chillwave”. I’m not even going to discuss it because it took me a long time to get into it, and I have to be in the right mood for this stuff – but it’s brilliant right now, because I have a terrible cold and this music is good (or bad) for the middle of winter when you start daydreaming of summer escapades. If we end up executing some ideas we tossed around, I’m sure we’ll end up taking a long drive listening to stuff similar to this playlist, and immortalising summer with the graininess of film.

2. Undercover Martyn – Two Door Cinema
I literally only heard this song a few hours ago and immediately had to put it on repeat for a while. It sounds exactly like something I’ve been craving for some time, without even knowing how or why.

3. When I’m Yours – Film School
I love music like this. It’d been a long time since I listened to bands or songs with an atmosphere like this, and I’ve really missed it. In saying that, the music snob in me will say that “this isn’t amazing music” per se, on a strictly musical level; but as I was saying to the boy (who isn’t so hot keen on this type of sound), that this song is “really good for what it is”. It’s got the driving bass, the whispery vocals, a decent hook, snare hits in the right places, blaaah! Okay I’ll stop analysing it now. It was funny though, because he said that if he were to think of a type of music as being “Amanda”, this would probably be it. It also makes me miss shoe-gaze.

4. Echoes – Washed Out
Within & Without is hands down my favourite record by Ernest Greene. Sure, his other stuff are great (and very summery, once again), but this album is far more intimate compared to his EPs, and this track is one of my favourites. It also has a killer album cover that I desperately want to re-create…

5. Despicable Dogs – Small Black
It seems to be a recurring theme that I like swirly-sounding songs. What I love so much about songs with this quality that sounds like it’s swirling in circles is how lost I can get in them. You lose track of time. You have no idea how much more of the song is left. And usually, it will have a façade of positivity through the use of major keys, but with a heavy undercurrent of something darker, sadder. Mmmm. The title of the post comes from this song, by the way.

6. Abducted – Cults
According to my music taste, I have a huge thing for trios and duos. Especially two-pieces consisting of a guy and a girl, so this band falls under that category perfectly. Asides from the fact that I don’t believe Brian’s actual last name could truly be as awesomeawesmoeawesome as “Oblivion” – and the fact that they come from San Francisco (which I’ve said enough times that I LOVE = awesome), are based in Manhattan (which I desperately want to visit = more awesome) and attended NYU (come on, I can’t even afford the flights there, let alone attend NYU, dammit! = even MORE awesome) – I really like their voices. On top of that, she’s pretty (has nice legs) and her voice has this weird pleading edge to it that I just can’t achieve with my voice which is about a whole octave lower. Maybe she’s the new #3 on my list of “ladies I’d like to be/like”.

7. Lofticries – Purity Ring
Good song. That’s all.

8. Baby Says (Acoustic) – The Kills
An acoustic version of my favourite track from The Kills’ newest album: click here for the album version. As mentioned above, I love guy/gal two-pieces, and The Kills is possibly my utmost favourite duo. There’s a weird familiarity in this song, even during the very first time I heard it, so that’s probably why it’s my top pick from Blood Pressures. Plus, I haven’t mentioned them since forever, and Mosshart is my #1 “lady I’d like to be”, after all. Except that I used the word “lady” in reference to Madeline Follin, above, but that word is terribly inappropriate and ironic for Mosshart.

9. Lady Daydream – Twin Sister
I don’t have any particular attachments to this song, I just think it’s nice. Twangy guitar. Dreamy vocals. Nice bass tone. Yup.

10. Coma Summer – Weekend
Had a huge nostalgic need for some psychedelic/shoe-gaze music a week or two ago, and this San Franciscan band fitted the bill nicely. I have a terrible habit of posting album openers on my playlists, but that’s the thing – the reason they’re the first track on an album means they’re good and reflect the band or album precisely. For those not into this genre, this would probably at best only be a “put on in the background whilst you read news online or pretend to study” kind of song, but I dig it nonetheless.

11. Trying Something New – The Honeydrips
I’m afraid the link takes you to the track on Myspace because I couldn’t find it on Youtube. Once again influenced by the boy, his love of Swedish artists has really rubbed off. Although it doesn’t have many lyrical merits, it’s one of those songs that still manage to sound good with the same lines and hook repeated over and over again. And for some reason, I really think that the hook of this song sounds like Real Estate’s “Beach Comber”, even though they are completely different-sounding songs.

12. I’ll Be Your Man – Anna Calvi
After several sources mis-quoted, I finally found a reliable source (BBC) which said that Brian Eno called Calvi “the biggest thing since Patti Smith”. Whilst I had tried and never really caught onto Patti Smith, something about this particular Calvi song struck a chord with me. I hate that term, because it’s a shitty and unintentional music pun, but I honestly couldn’t think of any other way of putting it right now. Anyway, before this playlist-making business completely destroys my self esteem, I need to point out how admirably talented and sexy Calvi is. I don’t play guitar mostly because I hate the way it feels in my hands and prefer the musical function of bass anyway, but it’s people like her that makes me go, damn, I need to learn how to do that, properly. Her technique! She plays guitar like a man. Like a particular man I know, but my my, how many men would want to be that guitar in her hands. (Live version of this track here). And oh damn, maybe she’s the new #3 and Follin will have to be #4. Because she trumps her both on musical and physical merits. Shhh.

13. Neon – Teen Daze
I don’t know why I like doing this, but I’ve just realised that this is not the first time I’ve started and ended a playlist with the same artist. It just seems well-rounded or something. Plus, this song is dreamy and sweet and very nostalgic-sounding – which makes me wish I was a teenager all over again, and furthermore, makes me want to repeat all my mistakes slightly differently. If only.

Yeah, the river, it spoke to me, It told me I’m small and I swallowed it down, If I make it at all – I’ll make you want me

Leaving the internet and blogosphere behind for a bit has been good for me. I’ve been doing a lot of major thinking in terms of re-structuring my life, my studies and my future. I still haven’t made a 100% commitment on any decisions yet, but at the moment it looks like I will be stuck at university for quite a few years to come, yet. I guess I’m just going to really try to make whatever I decide work for me. Ahhh. The woes of being multi-faceted, apparently multi-talented and seeking a more academic outlook.

A couple of days ago we had an “AS Music class plus Joel Reunion” roast lunch at Cara’s house. She had bought a few kilos of pork last Sunday and forgot to freeze it, so it went off and she had to re-buy the meat again that morning, causing us to wait until 2.49pm for lunch! All of us had skipped breakfast in anticipation of the roast lunch, so we ended up pigging out on my cupcakes as entree instead. The food (when we finally got to eat) was amazing though, so kudos to Cara for having us all around and being a lovely domesticated host. Poll of the day as to who would produce offspring first went to Cara (be it good or bad), so I guess it’s a good thing that she can do a bloody good roast!

Clockwise from the man in the beanie: Kingi (William), Freddy, Joel and Cara tucked away in the background.

Cara, Colin and Kingi. It’s funny how weird someone’s first name sounds once you get stuck into calling them by their last name.

Typical Joel slouch. With possibly my glass of Lindauer that he nicked and drank! Which I didn’t quite complain about though, after the wine incident last weekend.

The lovely view from Cara’s parents’ house. We had the lunch there instead of at her flat – because it’s much brighter and nicer. Plus it’s plenty more familiar territory to me.

Making sure we eat our greens…

Almost meal time.

I brought up how weird it was that we are all still friends, even though we rarely see each other, let alone everyone at once these days.  Joel (the tall, lanky, token finish-all-the-leftover-food guy, haha) is an absolute all-rounded genius who can write more Kanji characters that I can, who also makes Mechanical Engineering and Chemistry conjoint degrees sound too easy. When he tried to explain to Colin what “mechanical engineering” means, and the possibility of becoming a rocket scientist, we begged that he should become one just because of the endless “you don’t need a rocket scientist to…” jokes that we can pull. He was also the friend who traveled with me to Taiwan and Japan last year, although we really only became friends in 2008 from a mutual friend. That was the same year that Cara and I became friends as well; prior to that she absolutely loathed my guts because of some doped up footballer I dated and then dumped (because he was too stupid…) all the way back in those junior days of high school. She now works full time in freighting (is that what you even call it?) and sings in the Auckland Graduate Choir that often performs with the Auckland Philharmonic Orchestra. I don’t really remember how I became friends with Freddy at all asides from music and economics class; he’s the token Asian chick-magnet who has severely buffed up this year and we have to constantly tell him to keep his muscles to himself! I’m also not sure how I befriended Kingi, but I only remember that we bonded over our mutual distaste for our music teachers, growing up in the “ghetto South Auckland” and concert band camps back at college. Lastly, there’s good ol’ Colin. Mister Spanish-speaking gossip extraordinaire law student who is now also studying Chinese and constantly asking me for pingyin of words and phrases he doesn’t know. What a weird and eclectic bunch we are. I’d say it again – I simply don’t know how we’re friends. But that doesn’t matter, right? One or more of them are always there in times of the oddest needs. I think I’ve received late-night rides home from everyone except Kingi. I gave him one once.

So back to that afternoon, our lunch looked like this:

Then Freddy left because he had promised to meet someone at the gym in town, and look at how gleeful the rest of them looked at the sight of dessert! The action shot of them all shaking on some bottle of mousse or trying to get ice cream or meringue is absolutely priceless.

I have to admit: I’m not too keen on Crunchie ice cream. I don’t like Crunchie chocolate bars so the ice cream didn’t go down too well with me at all. Plus I was extremely full. Kingi rebutted my excuse of the ice cream being “urgh yellow!” was “but you are too!” – just priceless! Especially coming from the Pineapple Lump/Crunchie Bar man himself – brown on the outside and yellow on the inside.We are full of racially colourful jokes, aren’t we, literally… courtesy of our high school culture, I’d say.

Then Colin nicked my camera off me and embarked on a mission to photograph me. As usual, I resorted to my face-hiding tactics…

Creepy stalker-like photo by Colin, tehe.

My dessert!!!

In all seriousness though,  I need to lose some pounds and get over this lens-shy habit that I’ve formed in the past couple of years. I don’t know how I ever managed to fare as a child model, but apparently I’m supposed to go back to Taiwan in some months to let some famous photographer shoot me. Good lord. Help! Gulp.

Pieces of what… doesn’t matter anymore

Yesterday I got home after a treacherous commute from uni – slip-jogging downhill in the city in rain, with a heavy bag, heavy bass, semi exposed music folders, very full ferry, awkward seating – to the glorious sight of some parcels. My Asos package and some items from the BookDepository. I’m still waiting on 4(?) more books and a dress/convertible skirt thing to arrive:

OCD, Definition 1:

What I really want to write about is “obsessive compulsive documentation”, as per inspired by Marta’s blog. But first I have to get something off my chest: I used to be quite OCD as a child. I still am a little bit now, but it’s nothing compared to what I used to be. I’m sure lots of people out there will have done some of the things I used to do, but can you tell me – how bad did it feel when you didn’t stick to those “rules” which your brain somehow constructed and told you to adhere to?

I used to, and often still do now, but in a more oppressed manner:

– have to take three steps per slab of concrete
– count everything obsessively, out loud, in my head, all the time – especially when running and swimming (which is why I gave up the latter, counting up to the 5000 region is painful whilst swimming km after km in a lap pool)
– have to touch something a certain amount of times
– have to experience the same thing on both sides of my body (I still do this, my friends find it funny, but I really don’t – especially when they trigger it intentionally, it sets me off like a house on fire. e.g., if someone slaps one arm, I will have to ask them to slap me on the other arm, at the same angle, with the same strength; or if someone steps on my foot or something stupid like that.  Actually, I’d appreciate if everyone who reads this blog that knows me in real life would please fucking stop laughing about it and triggering it, it’s anguish in my head to try and fight the urge to punch my own arm, for example.
– in addition to the above, I like to touch things with both hands. I line people’s phones up when it’s on a table. I like to stack my ipod and phone together because they’re about the same size, and I hate feeling a phone vibrate in one hand but not the other.
– most especially in homeware-type stores, I have have have to backtrack my way out of a store, as if I had a spider web-like things trailing me and I have to “untangle” my way out, so that this “thread” doesn’t loop around a shelf or rack in a store. It used to make my mum wonder why I kept walking in circles back and back around aisles.
worst of all, I have a counting system and this is the most frustrating and made-fun-of thing ever. As mentioned above, I count. A lot. Moreover, I do this weird thing where I count three to 3, then three more to 6, then three more to 9, then two to 11, two more to 13, then three to 16 and then seven to 23. When I was younger, this systematic pattern only existed up to the number 9, but then at some point it grew to 11, 13, 16… and it did stop at 21 for a while, but somehow ended up at 23 instead. Weird, I know. And that probably made no sense to anyone else but me anyway. But the worst thing is, people make a joke out of it and I just can’t stand it! At its worst, you can tell my mind’s distracted from say, if I’m reading a book, I’ll end up reading really fucking slowly (I’m generally a fast reader otherwise) because I’ll have to look at all the punctuation on the page a certain amount of times… the page number a certain amount of times. And if it’s a number than I deem as “not good” or that I don’t like (such as 2, 4, 8), my mind psyches itself out and I have to “fix” it by looking at “good” numbers certain amount of times.

Not to mention, these are just my main things that I “have to” comply/count to. There are all sorts of random things that I obsess over as well, but don’t kick in that often, or are more easily overridden by my logic and common sense. For example, I have really, really messy (what people like to call “artsy”) handwriting – it’s mostly because I write really fast and big, and that’s just how it ends up. But those silly people that have attempted to copy my handwriting (fuck knows why), or, those even worse ones that try to criticise my handwriting beyond a necessary point, don’t realise that there’s a whole other reason which I let it become and stay so messy. To put it simply, once I make a conscious effort to make my writing neat, I end up obsessing over making it perfect. If I’m writing down music and my “neat writing” thing kicks in, then every little thing that pours over one line must immediately be erased. Or if my clefs don’t fit in the lines perfectly. Or if I haven’t divided each bar to roughly the same size.

It’s the most unbearable thing ever. Just now, I’ve scratched the back of my neck twice, on both sides, with both hands, because I can’t talk about this without succumbing to the “NEED”. I haven’t told my therapist any of this yet, though. Simply because we’re always dealing with something else and I forget about this until I get back into my car and something sets it off.

OCD, Definition 2:

Now, the other, less annoying type of “OCD” is “obsessive compulsive documentation”. To be honest, this goes beyond the desire to blog or to write in my notebook. For me, I like to keep a documentation of my mere existence and how I think/feel about things. I’ve learned so much simply by reading back in old poetry/lyric notebooks, old diaries, old blog posts, and looking through either digital photos or physical photo albums. I can’t remember how that quote goes, but I truly do believe that everything we’ve ever seen, everyone we’ve ever met and everything we’ve ever done has had its part in creating who we are today. I guess the whole “documentation” thing began the minute I was born, because my mum is a professional photographer. She’d done the big studio thing in Tokyo, did reporting for major newspapers and magazines in Taipei, and later opened up her own studio specialising in children’s photography – so my sister and I were constantly her subject of her films. She also used to do work for a parenting magazine, so whenever we so much as cried, out came the camera, snap snap, the dough rolled in. Obviously, being photographed whilst being told off or upset in general was really quite traumatising, and caused us to cry even more – but as I’ve grown up, I kind of appreciate having these things to look back on. When I was six, I asked my mum to buy me a navy and white checkered hardback diary. It came in a matching box with a lock on it, and it was to be my best friend during our immigration to New Zealand. The last time I read back through it, it occurred to me how I had started writing all in Chinese, and then in the middle was a bit of Chinglish, and eventually the Chinese got filtered out to remain only in the phrases where there’s a lexicon gap.

Then, at age 12 I discovered blogging and it changed my life. As you can see, I’ve been doing it ever since.

What I enjoy about documentation is that there’s evidence outside of myself that an experience or thought had occurred. Our memories aren’t reliable, and more often than not gets gray and blurry around the edges. Sometimes you see a view so amazing or had such a good time that you think “I’m going to remember this forever” – but really, you don’t. Some people enjoy just keeping such memories within, to themselves, but I just can’t. On top of this, such documentation often becomes a source of inspiration for me later on, when I am feeling more creative. Reading old poetry/blog/diary entries of my own have often resulted in extended verses, a new reflective blog post, and once even a painting – so see, for me it’s not just about “did that, *photograph it*, file it”, even if it appears to be to onlookers.

As for less meaning for documentation like taking crappy party photos versus taking decent film ones with a bit more effort, both are important to me. Whilst I may not (unlike most people my age) splash all my party/drunk/whatever photos all over facebook, it’s still nice for me to know that someday when I’m older and these days are over, I will have something left of it to look back on. Heck, I don’t even party that much or often anymore, so even looking back on photos from a year ago evokes nostalgia and makes me feel old already!

Point is, I like documenting. And even though I believe that, at the core we never change that much and essentially remain the same at heart, I still like to be reminded of who I used to be at any particular given point. It’s like those amazing lyrics or songs that I write in the shower, that I feel are so worthy of being worked on and properly written out, which I then forget the minute the water goes off – so too do the amazing memories and experiences that we have, if we don’t record them in some way. Plus, it’s always fun to see things from a new perspective, or think my god, I was that retarded at that age?! and then feel like a better person a few years on, isn’t it?


Left: welcome to the neglected corner of my room, where I tend to stash the biggest, heftiest items (refer to multiple basses and hockey gear), which then gets in the way of me trying to reach my wardrobe.
Right: my wardrobe door, on which I stuck a pile of those whacky film photos taken in Japan (my heart melts!) and Taiwan.

Traces of last night.
Left: Chocolaaate + acrylics I used to paint my bedside table last night.
Right: The remains of the beer and cupcakes which the boy and I indulged in along with Boston Legal last night.

I’ve been meaning to post this ever since Christmas. She may not enjoy my documenting ways which entails (undisclosed) unflattering photos of us, but my special lady friend sure gave me an adorabubble Christmas present which she made herself! It graces a prime spot on my wall, of course.


Boy and girl go down, To the place by the water. Creeping into the afternoon, Young aren’t so young – They’re getting restless

I hope that the nuclear leakage business in Japan due to the earthquake/tsunami doesn’t worsen; and I’m definitely relieved that all our family/friend ties there are all safe and sound as far as we know. I don’t really have the heart to blog about such things, it’s all a bit close to home, considering I was in Tokyo just 12 months ago. Also, being Taiwanese with strong Japanese ties, we hop over there for holidays all the time – like how Kiwis and Aussies holiday on either side of the ditch.

Today started like every other day – despite being a Saturday, I was supposed to wake at a certain time, but of course I ignored my alarm clock and snoozed and snoozed and snooozed. So when I finally, rather abruptly woke up completely, I once again had that huge wave of panic, oh no, what’s the time – how far have I overslept?! Luckily all was well and the boy had txted telling me to take my time. It was only quarter past nine.

We made the long drive out to Takapuna to the Department Store where he bought a very nice Topman blazer and shirt, whilst I pranced around like the distracted mind that I am, touching, smelling, feeling every fabric and fragrance I could get my hands on. I ended up with a nice loot myself (I’ll get to that later, below) and after a bit of “so where are we actually going?”, we managed to find the lovely waterfront cafe that my special lady friend* had taken me for my birthday last year. The single scoop ice cream would have more than sufficed for my taste buds and waistline, but I have an inability to pass up chocolate ice cream (because it’s always soooo good and satisfying!) , so I asked for a scoop of berry sorbet on top of that. The boy certainly didn’t complain nor fake chivalrous refusal at all, every time I offered up some of my ice cream to go with his mango sorbet, haha.

Polaroid taken at the beach. I couldn’t be bothered scanning it in, so took a digital photo of it instead.

So I know we weren’t technically supposed to be out at the beach today, but luckily everything’s fine on the NZ shores and we enjoyed a nice spot of sun by the sea, with views of such clear seawater that it was hard to imagine what’s happening both north and south of us. My mind’s been churning at high gears lately, and it didn’t help that yesterday I skipped a 3-hour percussion workshop to go home on an earlier ferry, and ended up tagging along to the boy’s 4th year Environmental Law lecture. I ended up scribbling down three full pages worth of… well heck I don’t really know nor remember… thoughts of some (definitely illegible and sporadic) description? I know he was curious as to what my mad writing speed recorded in black ink, but even I don’t remember by the second it’s made contact with paper. I have a tendency to do that – write like a mad woman and forget. Forget until I come back at some much later point where I’m calmer, and try and see my previous thoughts through fresher eyes. Unfortunately it’s not that effective in clearing my mind at all, but at least I feel like I’ve written it somewhere as a record that I can refer to and remember later.

On the topic of writing in notebooks, today we checked yet another Paper Plus to see if my favourite notebooks-in-which-to-write-lyrics-poetry-angry-stuff-anything-fake-diary-thingy was still being stocked, and was disappointed to find that it wasn’t. A peek in Borders reminded me of how much I enjoyed scribbling in a pocket soft cover Moleskine during my Californian trip, so I contemplated the larger version in a hardcover… but at $42, we were just not meant to be. $42!!! I stood there thinking perhaps, yes, the collection of my thoughts and creative streaks combined is worth far more than that monetary value, but $42 is just ridiculous for the torture that it will no doubt endure.

This led to an afternoon of browsing all the various Moleskine notebooks online and eventually ordering 3 products off I know, I know, I’ve JUST endorsed them in my last blog post, but considering I just ordered the exact same notebook for the pound equivalent of $21.94NZD, I just can’t help mentioning it again. I just hope it arrives ruddy soon, because after a quick google search, I found out that the Warehouse Stationery stocks the particular line of spiral bound hardcover notebooks that I’ve been using since I was 16. Yikes, that’s just 2 months short of being 4 years. I really, really don’t want to turn 20. Don’t want to cease being a teenager. A lot of people have said I’ll get over it, and pointed out how it makes no difference, etc – but it hasn’t changed the way I feel about my age. I’m scared of growing older – and I’m only 19! Imagine me in a few years’ time, oh my god!


Anyway, back onto the topic of retail therapy indulgence, I walked out of the Department Store with the above make up: lipstick in a “Beguiled” shade, and nail polish in “Airplane”. This is the darkest shade of lipstick that I now own, and I like that it matches my dark cherry shade of OPI nail polish. I don’t know what’s come over me in the past year and a bit. Ever since buying my very first lipstick (a very bold, bright red by Shiseido) for my 7th form ball, my lipstick collection has slowly but surely been expanding. Due to my heavy partying and drunken dancing with some of these babies, though, there’s been a few casualties in the form of a lipstick snapping (Chanel, I wanted to cry, but managed to re-attach it thanks to googling how), some damage done by the lid because a stick wasn’t wound down far enough (Shiseido, sad to say), and one lipstick that I was really mad at myself for losing (aka forgetting on the couch in the hostel) in San Francisco – that one was a (Maquillage x Alexander Wang). I think at this rate I may as well do a lipstick post. Some people have asked me about my makeup before (like that old jewellery post I did), so maaaaybe.

Bargain of the day was an A&F t-shirt in khaki green that I scored for $10, whilst the splurge of the day goes to my Something Else sweater from their new Winter 2011 collection. Apparently it’s only been out a week, and already the one I picked up was the last one on the rack! It was on the expensive side of things, but it’s pretty much what I’ve been looking for since last winter, so I’m over the moon about it regardless. Possible photos soon.

Since I seem to have started a trend of once again posting up my more lyrical/poetic writings in blog posts, here’s one from a few nights ago when I had trouble sleeping at 2.11am:

I’ve been everywhere,
Seen everything
But you’re the only
who stirs jealousy.

We’re living in my bed,
Fucking in my head
The heat’s too much,
Still, I want your touch.

Summer’s been a battleground
Philandering through too many rounds.
But the leaves will fall
We’ll call it  a draw.

Tell me where our lives will lead.

Last thing: I’ve been listening to this song over and over. Go look this band up – The Hundred in the Hands. We were discussing today how they almost sound like what The XX’s 2nd album should sound like, haha:

*Some of you know/refer to her as the “hot redhead” often featured in photos from late nights out; I’ve mentioned said bestie as either Lottie, Char, Charlo, or Charlotte. I should really be more consistent, but I really do call her all those things.

Like a shotgun needs an outcome, like a shotgun, I can’t be outdone

Another two days as whizzed past me too fast, yet again. Although my days have seemed productive enough, I dare not think of how little I have managed to achieve in comparison to my huge list of things to do. I did end up finishing the painting I started a few days ago, but haven’t taken any photos of it yet, so I will post that later, along with some shitty self-analysis of it, haha.

Sometime in the midst of all this cloudiness, rain and then lack of rain, and utter, torturous humidity, I’ve watched a couple of decent films, sent gifts overseas, and attained a very bright Rimmel lipstick in the shade of “shocking pink”. It’s not quite as pink as I would have liked, but it will do for now. I’m not too sure what’s come over me, in this search of a very, very bright pink lipstick – anyone that knows me even just a little bit would be expecting me to wear nothing at all or a hot fiery red instead. But all that aside, I’m just looking forward to my dinner date at some mysterious, unknown location (it’s probably not a big deal, but I love – and hate – not knowing where it is, haha), followed by some scandalous dancing with Lottie. Truth be told, it will probably be nowhere near as scandalous as our dancing the night we befriended each other, but how good the DJ set is will determine how low low low we’ll get.

Some shots from Zowie’s gig at Galatos on Saturday night – the rest can be found here:

Oh Johnny boy… I don’t know what’s happening with Cut Off Your Hands, but last year Johnny was their replacement guitarist, and now he’s paying for Zowie. Either way, always a pleasure to have an excuse to stare at him, be it through the lens or not. Although, boy he moved a lot and was hard to photographer. Especially under that harsh light his angle was at.

I’ve been completely head over heels in love and lust with the band Warpaint and their new album. This is one song I just can’t get out of my head, to the point where it’s almost irritating because I was trying to write a song, and I just kept finding myself humming this thing to myself! Lyrics from “Undertow” were also the source of my last blog entry’s title. Can’t wait to see them at the end of January, although now I’m kicking myself over not having seen them in their hometown of LA.

The other song that is currently on repeat repeat as I type this is Lykke Li’s “Get Some”. I swear the lyrics of this song are akin to those that I have written before, but am too scared to actually publicise, haha. The video is pretty awesome too, so check it out.

And last but not least, the trailer of Somewhere, which was directed by Sofia Coppola. I went and saw this at Rialto with Lottie and her sister yesterday and we all absolutely loved it. I know a lot of people have given it bad reviews, saying it’s about absolutely nothing, but they’re missing the point! It’s all in the beauty of the mundane-ness of this movie star character’s life, and how he ultimately feels like nothing. Beautiful. Here’s the trailer – which has a lovely soundtrack, just like the movie does – I highly recommend this movie.