RIOT GRRL

 miss mary mac, mac, mac,

all dressed in black, black, black,

with silver buttons, buttons, buttons,

all down her back, back, back,

she asked her mother, mom, mom,

for fifty cents, cents, cents,

to see the elephant, elephant, elephants,

they jump the fence, fence, fence,

they jump so high, high, high,

they reach the sky, sky, sky,

and never come back, back, back,

till the fourth of july-, lie, LIAR

when i was fourteen i wanted to be a lot of things. I struggled a lot with my parents, not because of anything in particular that they, or I, did but because i wanted to be independent. I wanted to be fierce, smart, crazy, pretty, doing my own thing. Sometimes i wanted to be just like kathleen. 

Listening to Bikini kill again took me right back to those days, I would play the singles on repeat as loud as i could. it made me happy to know that there were girls out there doing their own thing. 

FAM-ished

I miss my Family. My Ma, my Pa, my Bro. 

boys and gals

this isn't spilt milk

I keep referring to this week as the worst week of my existence thus far. Its not a very bright or happy offering but, god bless, it is the truth. You know those weeks that just keep getting you down, one event after the other until it seems like you just don't have anything else to give. Everything that has happened to me has been something I have had no control over, and in a way, even though it has been a shit, shit week I have made it through. And I know that there is nothing I could have done that would have changed anything that happened.

It started with some small things, my dog died, i was quite sick, etc. to quote GC "the little things make the biggest part of me". It was only a week until my mum got to London. I was so ready to see her. Being sick just made me want her more. It was painful how much i missed her and how slow the days seemed to drag. And then there was the Volcano, so, wow, no Mum, no holiday to Italy, no time off work.

 Then last friday I was on my way to work, doing my usual Mile End Shuffle (changing from the district line to the central line) when the person who was standing next to me jumped in front of the train. I hadn't even noticed them standing on the platform, I was so absorbed in the music I was listening to, my own thoughts ("I'm feeling a little bit melancholy today"). I saw the train approaching down the tunnel. The best thing about the central line is that it goes real fast. That means it pulls into stations real fast.

I didn't see this Lady, I didn't even know it was a woman until I was told later. She was the closest person to me, standing on the edge of the platform. All I saw lasted probably less than a second but I assure you I will never forget it. It was graceful, purposeful, judged and very very sure. A perfectly planned and perfectly executed death. I don't know what it takes to dive in front of a train. Something very powerful, a very profound sadness. I saw her float through the air, hit the tracks and her body was consumed by the train. I will never forget that. I find it hard not to see it, speeding trains keep crashing through my thoughts.

Everyone keeps getting angry, telling me about how selfish suicide is. I don't know what I think about that. I'm not angry but I do feel very sad for the world. I don;t know what had happened to this lady to make her so sad. I don't know what people had done to her, what people had said to her, what she had said to herself. I can say for sure that what she did wasn't on a whim. She could no longer survive in this world. I am sure that if the pressure of her sadness wasn't weighing so heavily she would have perhaps not have been so blinded. I don't know, I just know that you can't be angry at someone who is just so sad.

I'm scared now. there are lots of different emotions. Half of me is terrified of bursting in to tears (they are only tears if they leave your eyes). Half of me is scared that i haven't cried enough. That I get on the tube ever morning to go to work and I can;t escape the image of crushing bodies, but now I don't cry (they are only tears if they leave your eyes). I jump when people get too close to oncoming traffic, and it makes me feel like a nervous wreck. I won't look at approaching trains. I won't catch the central line. I get off at a different station now. I never want to go to Mile End again. When i think about it I just see bodies. I should probably see a quack.

I never used to want to be with people all the time, but at the moment I feel like parts of me are lost. I dont know why, I don't have any emotional investment, i'm just a witness. I just feel really sad for the world. I wish I had been five minutes late or five meters down the platform. I wish I didn't feel guilty/sad/unable to listen to joy division. I wish I had my mum. I wish I had that comfort of being home. I wish i could say "at least no one was hurt".

Endless love

<3 <3<3<3<3

its good to be bad and its bad to be good

rock and roll doesn't necessarily mean a band. it doesnt mean a singer, and it doesnt mean a lyric, really. it's that question of trying to be immortal.

RIP Malcolm McLaren

1946-2010

double-dipped

waiting for my friends at bethnal green today i spotted two girls who had double-dipped their locks.

By the time we walked to broadway market I had decided that it was definitely the direction i wanted to go with my hair. One colour is so average!

My hair's not this bright, but it is now light brown on top and purple underneath with purple tips all over! Can't wait to see how it looks in the sunlight tomorrow!

Proenza Schouler, Giles, Debbie, Dazed editorial, Katie Shillingford

C.R.A.Z.Y.

I've been spending a lot of time listening tothis soundrack. It's from Quebec film C.R.A.Z.Y, which is one of the films that i constantly rotate in my "favourite film" category (along with Vivre sa Vie, L'avventura and In good Company). Listening to the soundtrack is almost as good as watching the whole film, you can relive the atmosphere of the scene. Also, it is a really good soundtrack- the director put his own money into it and blew $600K on the soundtrack alone.

C.R.A.Z.Y. follows the story of Zac, the fourth of five boys growing up in Montreal in the 60's and 70's. The film shows the relationship between Zac, his brothers and in particular his father, who struggles to deal with the complexities of raising boys in the modern world. All of the boys are different, the book worm, the sporty one, the tough guy and Zac who, because he is the youngest for quite a few years, is considered a mommy's boy and his masculinity is often questioned. This is not helped by the fact that his Catholic mother believes him to be blessed with the gift of healing due to being born on Christmas day and on account of a birthmark in his hair which makes one of his strands of hair white. Zac struggles to find and define himself admist the drugs, promiscuity and freedom of the 70's and against the moralistic Catholic views of his parents. All of this is set against a backdrop of the most definitive songs of the time, perfectly reflecting the crazy times.