they were the cool ones to hang out with in brazil on the 60's of 19th century
Friday, 30 December 2011
Thursday, 29 December 2011
Wednesday, 28 December 2011
Thursday, 1 December 2011
Wednesday, 30 November 2011
favorites from saatchi's new art from germany exhibition
and then after an hour and something there, exposed to quite intensive colors (fluors+fluors) and sculptures and paintings made by kids/artists, exploring objects towards to build the castles they always dreamt about and all their wishes of shapes and colors, quite like kids playing while working on very grown up art pieces, i ended coming home with colorful animal shaped rings all over my fingers (yeah, more than one in each), wishing i could feel young as i should.
Tuesday, 29 November 2011
I was idling through my bookshelves when I noticed a book my brother had once given me for my birthday - a collection of short stories. Well, I started to reread one of those stories. It was about a man who one morning wakes up and cannot bring himself to get out of bed. He shuts his eyes in self-defense. He reexamines his life, he’s seized with a restlessness. He packs his bags, cuts all ties, he can no longer live among the people he knows. They paralyze him. He’s monied. He goes to Rome. He wants to burrow under the Earth like a bulb, like a root. But even in Rome he cannot escape people from his former life. So, he decides to return to the city where he was born and educated but which he can’t quite bring himself to call home. Well, the move doesn’t help. He feels he has no more right to return than a dead man. What can he do? He desires an extreme solution to his conundrum. He aches for nothing less than a new world, a new language. Nothing changes. Out of indifference - and because he can’t think of anything better to do - he decides once more to leave his hometown, to do some hitching. A man picks him up, they ride off into the night when BANG, the car smacks into a wall. The driver dies, our man is hospitalized, broken up. Months pass, his wounds heal. Now he wishes for life. He has a confidence in himself, in things he doesn’t have to explain, things like the pores in his skin - all things corporeal. He can’t wait to get out of the hospital, away from the infirm and the moribund. “I say unto thee, rise up and walk. None of your bones are broken.” The end. When I reread those words “Rise up and walk. None of your bones are broken” I felt a tremendous sadness. Do you know what the opening line of the story is? When a man enters his thirtieth year people will not stop calling him young. Thirty. I’d been given the book for my thirtieth birthday. “The Thirtieth Year” by Ingeborg Bachmann. So I had heard, I had been told, I knew all along even if I didn’t really know - the great true things are unsurprising. But what did I do back then? I carried on. I carried on dutifully. We were the happy couple, Elizabeth and I. That’s how people saw us. But in truth, I did not cherish my wife. And I did not cherish my friends or even my children. I just carried on. I was a success. I made my way. But with each step I cringed. I was on the backfoot, the defensive. And now, tonight, for the first time I say “my bones are broken.” Broken. One day I will need your help. All of my bones are broken.'
monologue from julia leigh's sleeping beauty
Saturday, 19 November 2011
is it common glueing crystals on turtles' shells?! or, is it legal? why i have never seen it before and why i saw two in the same week? is it a signal? i feel i'm really forecasting the next trend for pets!!
first pic, julia flyte's bejeweled tortoise in brideshead revisited, and with a profusion of cheap strass in the rum diary
Friday, 11 November 2011
Sunday, 6 November 2011
Saturday, 5 November 2011
Wednesday, 2 November 2011
she was obsessively in love, and na-tu-ra-lly, she found appropriate to give an end to her pain. the whole story is the kind of thing you don't know how you didn't hear about before.
joyce's surreal life is on tabloid by errol morris
next time leave a note!
Tuesday, 1 November 2011
i recently watched 'the girl on a motorcycle' and i'm a bit obsessed with the film and marianne faithfull. i was kind of reluctant to like her 80's deep raucous voice after listen the sweetie girl from the sixties, and feeling bad about some live performances from her new wave wasted times. but i think it was more because, for a moment, i found it difficult to recognize the same girl, but her raw voice does make more sense and suits her character better.
this is a making-of of two videos for dangerous acquaintances album directed by serge gainsbourg (favorite rude-boy ever! why does he need to present the thing in a bed with a girl??)
the scene which she is surrounding a car in a harbour is quite beautiful, and i adore the music, but i was checking and they foolishly never used it on the original video, which actually is a bit boring and i don't think is gainsbourg's.
(02:18 she is so good answering to gainsbourg's attempt to make she looks sex playing with her fox scarf)
Tuesday, 25 October 2011
Sunday, 23 October 2011
maybe one of the last sunny sundays of this year and i was by myself without anything to do. so i decided to get lost, walking through southeast london, and ended passing a considerable long time mesmerized for the tower bridge's screws (actually i don't know exactly how to call these studs on the steel, is it screws?), thinking how lovely is the color harmony of the bridge and trying to catch what i was seeing with my phone's pixlromatic. it is such a stupid thing staying at home in this city.
more of what i've seen today from shoreditch high street to bermondsey
i can't stop listening ella since i woke up this morning, i always thought it is such a sunday thing to listen
Friday, 21 October 2011
Tuesday, 18 October 2011
last week i finally watched lars von trier's last destroy-my-soul movie. he is now, analysing melancholia (as a planet or a feeling, whatever) on it's particular acceptance process by different persons (and you can feel free to find these characters suitable for yourself or whoever). after it i was thinking in world end's movies, and how you can not watch them without drop at least a tear. then, i realized i have a list of movies to suggest when someone asks for a crying movie, and can stop recommending 'my girl'.
back to melancholia, i don't want to tell what happens in the end - but i will (or kind of), but honestly it really doesn't matter cause it's more than obvious.
there is no more definitive end than killing all the characters, destroying the scenery, turning it silent, it's over, and the inevitable final and the end of the existence of all the fiction its there to be faced on the black screen. and you, sitting on your chair in this afternoon session, have to deal with this: were you trying hard to not ruin your make-up and deadly suffer with these characters?? hey, nothing of this exist!!
all my respect to this sort of shock of reality after a couple of hours of engagement with a story.
Friday, 14 October 2011
with her huge eyes and prominent forehead, barbara steele has the burtonian sort of beauty and a 60's immaculate elegance. she's is known for acting in some italian horror movies during the 60's what made her fame as a gothic muse. i've never seem none of these movies (first one, definitely is gonna be the vampire black sunday), but she is so unbelievable exquisite as gloria morin in fellini's otto mezzo that i can't imagine her in these horrors trashes. and i need to mention how 8 1/2 make-up is fucking amazing. i love the scene when guido draws on carla's face a 'whore's' eyebrows in his conception of it.
Saturday, 8 October 2011
'i started imagining clothes the same way i started creating images: with a sense of curiosity and innocence driven by my no-background background. no school. no telly. no boundaries. no formatting. i like the idea of a world that we could live and shape by ourselves, only by observing. each our own. my clothes have erupted from this world of mine. they are asexual, aseasonal, they come from no place, no time, no tradition, yet they could be home anywhere, anytime. they exude a sense of discreet chic, the essence of timeless style, drawn on a monochromatic and graphical canvas. palette of blacks, touches of pure whites and intense grays. sophisticated unisex modern classics for anti-conformist individuals.' - rad hourani
Friday, 7 October 2011
since you are in love with someone, you can be questioning yourself how it could happen to you (cause nobody deserves such torment as love) so here i'm gonna try to explain myself why i love him this much and how it became a really not temporary thing. my tactic consists in basically splitting him up in smaller pieces and analyze them separately. this is about his hair, and to be quite predictive, about his long-hair phase.
Thursday, 6 October 2011
are you bored? a nice think to do is try to make your best gay friend looks exactly like you. the bad (or good) think that could happen is if he likes and then you are contributing creating one more tranny to the world
at least is the prettiest tranny ever cause it looks like me