Friday, 30 December 2011

Fixie cool

I would totally love to hate people who ride fixie bikes and think that being a dickhead is cool. But alas, they are just so pretty. The bikes, that is. The people usually have try-hard haircuts. Anyway this is one of the prettiest bikes I've come across so far.

Sadly, cycling is one of those things that is so much more fun when you aren't doing it than when you are. You only ever remember the downhills, not the throbbing in your thighs as you tackle and inevitably fail to ride up the ups. And that bit is so embarrassing. Nobody wants to be seen pushing a bike up a hill, it looks just as bad as running down a hill after a skate-board would. Just plain stupid. Nevertheless, I'd be really happy if I owned this bike. Ain't it a beaut?

Wednesday, 7 December 2011

Another offensive twerp

So I'm standing in the sleazyjet line waiting to be allowed on their shit airplane so that I can fly to Holland to see the boy. (He is one of those foreign types you see.) Anyway, I'm just standing there in Priority B with almost everybody else except the people in suits and those accompanied by small people less than... shall we say four feet tall. And this man next to me starts chatting. He was one of those men with cheeks permanently stained red. The way that most normal people look only after standing at a cold bus-stop for 40 minutes. And he was badly shaven and smelt a little bit of mould.

He turns to me and nudges his head at the suits in Priority A. "Bastards," he says, really quite loud, "Whats the point in paying for speedy-boarding. The plane ain't going to get there any quicker for them lot."

"Yeah, totally" I murmur in reply.

"So, you been to Holland before?" he growled. But before I had time to say yes, he assumed I was going to say no, and proceeded to tell me how shit the whole country is. Especially Amsterdam, apparently, everyone there is just 'of their 'edds the owl time.'

At about that point I interjected that I quite liked Amsterdam, and had visited the previous year. That shut him up for a bit. I was thrilled. I thought I'd won the battle. But alas, no. About three minutes passed. I was getting cocky. Doing a triumphant dance in my mind and humming 'We Are the Champions.' When suddenly:

"So. Where you from?"

"North london" I sigh, praying that the plane would be ready for boarding soon.

"Oh wow.  Its a nice area, north London. Very rich area." (This is hardly true, north london does have wealthy parts, but it also has some of the worst council estates in the whole of the city... but i decided to let the generalisation slide).

"I suppose so. I live quite far out though."

"Well you know its only rich because of all them Jews. They like the money, y'know." He then looked at me inquisitively. "You ain't one of them are you? Ain't Jewish?"

"No." I sigh. But of course I am. I've got the nose and everything.

Monday, 28 November 2011

Old Men I'd Do

1. Marlon Brando. Admittedly less hot circa The Godfather II, but look at that dampened chest. Phwarr.

2. Jonny Depp. I don't care how old or ever-so-slightly chubby he gets, Jonny is god. Just don't think of Fear & Loathing. They magically made him gross in that.

3. Atticus Finch. He's all intelligent looking with the big glasses. And I bet he moralises in bed. Yum.

Saturday, 26 November 2011

Alas to be a teenage girl!

Aware we are wilting but forced to wait
Wake up each day and trust in fate?

Pah! This is a modern era and fate died
Long ago.

We must prune and pluck and pinch.
Bra to lift and belt cinch.

I shall be fat when I am married.
And ladies shall cry, “Oh!
Is not it shocking how she has let herself go?”

And as they snicker I shall smile;
Eat a cake once in a while
(or perhaps oftener than that)
And I shall enjoy being fat
And going without brushing my hair
And seeming not to care.

But for now I must watch what I eat
I must wear shoes that hurt my feet.
I must prune and pluck and pinch,
My waist gain not a single inch,
I must draw lines beneath my eyes
And when in bed suppress the sighs

Of inevitable disappointment-
Not when I am married! Oh, no!

But oh,
When I am married I shall be fat-
And where shall be the shame in that?

Friday, 25 November 2011


This is a little stop-motion something that my boyfriend and I made a while back. It has a whole 161 hits on Youtube so we are essentially celebrities these days.

Thursday, 24 November 2011

The Luck of The Brungers by Luke Wright

I saw Luke at the Edinburgh Festival last summer doing a show called "Cynical Ballads" and he was absolutely brilliant. Even my parents enjoyed it despite having no time at all for poetry. He's totally nailed the perfect balance between great performance and great words. I wish I could write poetry like this. Maybe I'll try sometime.

Friday, 18 November 2011

Barren: "Bare of intellectual wealth, destitute of attraction or interest, poor, meagre, jejune, arid, dry." (Fig. OED)

Don't worry. I'm not actually barren. At least, I hope not. I'm sure I'll want to squeeze forth a couple of ankle-biters at some point when life really starts getting boring but for now, I feel that getting pregnant would be poor decision making.

It is my life itself which I just described to my good friend Phineas as "barren." Alas, I have no hobbies. All I do in my spare time is watch old films and play games downloaded from the internet. My recent favourite is called WolfQuest. But my bloody den keeps getting invaded by alien packs because I keep forgetting to wee all over it. So really that provides more trauma than comfort to my tired existence.

I'm void of mental germs, unproductive of results, bare of intellectual wealth, destitute of attraction or interest, poor, meagre, jejune, arid, dry. I produce little or no vegetation. All the definitions the Oxford English Dictionary offers apply to me. (except the bit about being unable to bear children...)

My future is barren. I have about a month left to decide what to do next year when my university finally kicks me out (I graduate) and I have no fucking idea. The advertising world it seems, does not want me. And I am very personally offended DKLowe, that you didn't even want to give me an interview. As a result, I've decided to boycott application forms of all kind.

My good friend Phineas is refusing to comfort me. He has been responding to my claims of barrenness with insipid questions like "Is barrenness a word?" and "Are you dried up?" No bleeding use at all.

Wednesday, 16 November 2011

Stupid Posters Should Be Defaced

Having a Coke With You

This video was filmed one moth before Frank O'Hara's death in 1962. I love this poem.


is even more fun than going to San Sebastian, IrĂșn, Hendaye, Biarritz, Bayonne
or being sick to my stomach on the Travesera de Gracia in Barcelona
partly because in your orange shirt you look like a better happier St. Sebastian
partly because of my love for you, partly because of your love for yoghurt
partly because of the fluorescent orange tulips around the birches
partly because of the secrecy our smiles take on before people and statuary
it is hard to believe when I'm with you that there can be anything as still
as solemn as unpleasantly definitive as statuary when right in front of it
in the warm New York 4 o'clock light we are drifting back and forth
between each other like a tree breathing through its spectacles

and the portrait show seems to have no faces in it at all, just paint
you suddenly wonder why in the world anyone ever did them

I look
at you and I would rather look at you than all the portraits in the world
except possibly for the Polish Rider occasionally and anyway it's in the Frick
which thank heavens you haven't gone to yet so we can go together the first time
and the fact that you move so beautifully more or less takes care of Futurism
just as at home I never think of the Nude Descending a Staircase or
at a rehearsal a single drawing of Leonardo or Michelangelo that used to wow me
and what good does all the research of the Impressionists do them
when they never got the right person to stand near the tree when the sun sank
or for that matter Marino Marini when he didn't pick the rider as carefully
as the horse

it seems they were all cheated of some marvelous experience
which is not going to go wasted on me which is why I am telling you about it

—Frank O'Hara


Essay due in soon
Too hungry to concentrate

Marshmallow Test

Tiny People

Grottaglie, Italy
 I'd like people better if they were only this big. Less obstructive.

Monday, 14 November 2011


Fairy lights are one of my favourite things ever and this is a whole vineyard full of them. Pretty.

Saturday, 12 November 2011

Finding Sophie's Blog

they found me. shizzle.


I am so angry right now I actually feel like I could cry. Of course, I'm being self-indulgent and actually have very little reason to cry. BUT I WANT TO ANWYAY. I CAN BE IRRATIONAL IF I WANT. See, the problem is that I only have about 5 really good friends that I see every day. For some stupid reason the majority are of the inferior sex. Consequently, for the past two days these witless monkeys have all been playing some awful new video game which has just been released. Which would be fine, if they did that in the privacy of their own rooms, and maybe came out for a chat once in a while. But alas. Instead they've locked themselves away with Skyrim whilst I've been bored, watching shit tv on my own. And whenever they do come out of their caves they insist on conversing with each other about the game, and only the game. I've had to endure conversations about new weapons and destroying dragons and talking dogs and one-handed skill levels. I seriously need new friends.

And all this just makes me annoyed with myself for being so useless at keeping myself entertained on my own, and for just completely forgetting to get into the X-factor this year. What a terrible lack of forward planning.

Friday, 11 November 2011

Dog Food (this is amazing)

"All they that love not tobacco and boys were fools."

This is Christopher Marlowe. HOW SEXY IS HE? I think its all that wispy hair that does it. And that kinky flash of neck, not like prudish Shakespeare with his ruff.

Tuesday, 8 November 2011


My boyfriend drew me like one of his French girls: (I definitely look like this)

Thursday, 3 November 2011


So guess what? Yesterday I actually left my room. After staring blindly out my window/at my laptop for hours I decided to go to Tescos. I bought some feta cheese and ate it with pita bread and humous and beetroot (my new favourite thing.) I also bought some felt-tips which I decided I just had to have. Today I must ponder Oscar Wilde however, and I'm not letting myself leave the building until I have done so properly, and written at least 2000 words of aforementioned ponderation. And it just looks so grim outside that I feel like weeping.

Wednesday, 2 November 2011


So I haven't been outside in two days now. And I think that I'm getting a bit deranged. I keep thinking that I hear my computer make that bleepy noise it does when I get an email but then it turns out I've made it up. I just wish people were trying to tell me things. I have an essay to write but instead I've spent the last 3 hours watching a film about Motzart. Its been fab. I am really running out of food, I need to go to the shops. But I'm protesting against freedom. Fresh air. Who needs that crap? Not I. I would however, really like a cupcake or something. Sob.

Tuesday, 1 November 2011

Scabby-faced Scuzzball

Once I was in the park and a homeless guy came up to me to ask for some spare change. Admittedly, I don't usually give away spare change. You never know when a single penny will come in handy and besides, giving two pence always seems like an insult anyway. This time however, I actually didn't have any change to give, I'd paid for my lunch with a credit card. I told him so. And in response he asked me whether I was expecting a boy or a girl. The scabby-faced scuzzball thought I was pregnant. I AM NOT. I do not look pregnant. I hope he felt sufficiently bad when I told him to "Bloody well piss the rubber-duck off." No reason is ever good enough to make a girl fear she's fat.