hello seattle

if you'd just secure me tonight.
you're leading me up hills and mountains and across oceans. the delusion of you is giving me deniable hope. perhaps it is time i let go before i get myself in it too deep. perhaps i'd have you sing me to sleep.

i've been insensible. pride and belief has viced. i'm afraid i've been locked down, unbecoming, tenacious. i read many books but never finish them. i go to bed with savoury thoughts, believing like a child, like a FOOL.

Like a fool, I'm afraid to say. He cannot be your everything, and neither you his. Worlds apart, the both of you. Ocean over, between you. How could you have thought -

I thought.

That's what went wrong. Darling, we all want to believe.

I thought -

I know you did.

I only hoped -

Hope you did. It was not enough.

hello seattle, i am an albatross.

retail is a whole different level of psychology.
sometimes i feel like telling them to wrap their own gifts! especially when i'm working sunday and i'm moody about it.

i like to play music quite loud.
i am a learner driver.
i have a penchant for the eurodisco genre.
i paint my nails with cheap nailpolish which rubs off and looks terrible and i couldn't be bothered to clean it off.
i steal beverage glasses from bars and take them home.
i am self absorbed
i have a temper.
both of these make me a pretty difficult person to get along with
i haven't done anything constructive for about ten months and couple of days.
i seem to get myself into trouble in crowded places, even if i'm just on water.
i hate HATE HATE bouncers.
i spend too much time thinking inwardly.
i detest small talk and people who don't care what your name is anyway or what you're doing with yourself.
i get distracted very easily.
some stuff is so overrated.
i don't know which diretcion in which to exert myself.
i won't ever try and smoke pipe tobacco again.
i have a liking for hipster boys, but i am NOT! a hipster mind you! oh no i am not
i want i want i want EVERYTHING.
i know kung fu ...(not really)
mcdonald's is my second favourite thing at one in the morning. my first is public toilets and drum and bass.
i write and write and write but never show anyone my work.
i write and write more but i never seem to write anything worth reading.
i want a car.
i owe somebody money.
i fight a lot with my parents.
i hate confrontation but at times i'll blow your boat out of the water.
i read children's books.
fabric softener.
i am an idiot.
somebody loves me.
i dislike cold water.
i'm pure euro trash.
ibiza here i come!

i keep myself busy by writing in this undeserving shitty blog and trying to make my own clothes.
i have new and crazy ideas everyday, usually ideas involving starting my own publishing business or something and then i realise i have no ground to stand on and i shrug and think, whatever, maybe later.
you see, i get all keen for something and then i don't finish what i start. that's one of my biggest charcter flaws. i cannot sift information. instead i throw myself into something head and shoulders and all and then i cannot sustain that same level of enthusiasm for much longer. i can't tell you how many books i've started writing and then sent to the recyle bin. it's terrible. i just can't deal with my life's constant information overload. i wish i could just sit down and get something done. right now my thoughts are in pieces. everything i do is in pieces. i need to plan out my life in smooth operation, without interruption. focus focus focus

all you can eat

aesthetic: fluorescence, neon colours, celebrity, trash anarchy, sonicism, electronic instruments.
haunt: a club all you can eat managed by Jim Warboy and K-Tron became the nesting ground of the new rave movement. the genre condensed, corrupted and developed within these walls.
media: brit mag NME publicized this genre, emergence from the underground between 2006 and 2007.
bands accepted into genre: trash fashion, new young pony club, late of the pier, hadouken!, shitdisco.
response and criticism: BBC's the mighty boosh parodied the nu-rave scene in the song 'eels'. klaxon cited that the movement began as a joke that got out of hand, slapping around those 'lazy journalists that won't shut up about the scene that doesn't even exist.'

'Space Invaders Are Smoking Grass' and other prodigies.

I have spent this morning on wikipedia under the new wave and synthpop genres 'discovering' nouveau and terribly obscure bands, in true hipster fashion. i am not entirely sure if electronic music genres are true examples of 'deck' taste, but, in tribute to hipsterdom what is to be defined? we hipsters define ourselves, because we-are-awesome like that.]

intrestingly i found a fusion style called electroclash (elektroklash) that takes on New Wave and electrifies it. Term was coined by Larry Tee, but the movement is widely said to be headed by a 'DJ Hell from Gigolo Records.' Pioneering 1982 film Liquid Sky also associated with the genre, for aesthetic contribution.

bands that fall under the genre:
peaches
chicks on speed
miss kittin and the hacker
felix da housecat
fischerspooner
ladytron
robots in disguise

i often wonder how they come up with these names.

magic mirror.

this time baby i'll be bulletproof

LA ROUX

english electropop duo.

portfolio.

sharon generously agreed to be my model for a shoot held in my bedroom, with a white tablecloth as the backdrop. photoshop applies.



shirt, a lucky errol arendz find.




dungerees, nylon.



hair purposely out-of-bed. skirt from second-hander down the road, some french label.



kustom shoes, laces untied without socks.
mango semi-clutch bag.

coppelia sale item from the biscuit mill.

PART 1: The Psychology

When I grow up, I wanna be a hipster. In saying that, I aspire to the very zenith of coolness that can only be achieved by rejecting the very word cool, because that was the word we used the last century and a half. Instead, we break the norms that we, in our mayhemic years of teen angst and declination of the self, were affronted with. Unsurprisingly we rebelled against the current trends of the day to form our own niche. Role-play, perhaps.

I know you’re a hipster when I see you. You go in twos, because three’s a crowd. Or larger groups on a street trawl. You dress like fools. You put me off my lunch. I feel I’m losing my appetite. Regardless of my confessional love for vintage clothing and trend-seeking, the very idea of conforming to hipsterism makes me want to go back and sell all my checked flannel shirts, skinnies and thrift pencil skirts just to be rid of such a label. You hipsters reject the oh-unspeakable mainstream, but at the same time created a blissfully ironic phenomenon known as hipstream, and a feeding ground for an unquenchable analyst like me.

Having a particular liking for certain hipster traits does not make me one persay. if you wanted to judge you could say i was going halvies in my hipsterdom, but remaining well aware of the danger of actually conforming to non-conformism and ironically contradicting myself. While I do enjoy a good night out i do not smoke serially nor have ever appeared on a social-scouting blog to date. i do not have a singular group of friends of a specific hip/deck genre but rather socialize with people from many different social circles, each of their own style preferences. so you see, the basic principle of hipsterdom, that is ELITISM, is not something I condone or maintain in my attitudes in life.

hipsters, if you are reading this, you probably would never out-loudly admit your state of hip, but believe me, you'll know by the end of this. kindly take your elitism and cork it with the rest of that vodka and coke you're boozing on, or preferably shove it up your two percent body fat bums.

run-off, over kill.

right. i'm actually not done.

can i have a show of hands who thinks they're original?
great, that's the entire floor. some originality we have going on here.
And thus, a new era is born out of the very traditions that grew on us. Those which we vowed to reject in place of our ownership of self.
the invariable hunt for cool has been a generation quest for decades over, manifesting in forms of revival, current and post movements. Subcultures evolved from the previous, each with a new manifesto and philosophy, essentially proclaiming why we’re cooler than the ones before.

i'm so awesome that i can puff three marlboro lights at once whilst simultaneously denying that i am a hipster, as i take a swig of my black label and attempt to dance to some pseudo-obscure electro band at the assembly. ♥ i am awesome.

i am so awesome that i can sniff out a trend from five hipsters down the line. i'm a local creative, a freelancer in some young profession such as skateboard graphic deisgn, social photography or graduate school design. i'm so awesome that my dad chips in for almost everything. besides my elite group of designer friends (who complement me good) my daddy's credit card is my best buddy and my phat phucking trust fund is growing by the year.
i am a biscuit-milling, trend-spotting, dime-chewing fool.

oh i love being a hipster.
(god i fucking hate new york).

hipster substitutes in cape town's hipster playground versus the united states plague.

williamsburg, new york come the old biscuit mill
pabst blue ribbon come black label
huckleberry bar come discotheque fridays
hotel delmano come THE assembly
american apparel come astore
markthecobrasnake come we-are-awesome

clandestine, posh sips indeed. rated 'under the radar' which should suit the apparent population of originality-seeking dumb douches.

rah rah republic

i am in the midst of a crisis. while surplussed by bands that get more and more obscure by the minute, until they are hardly in relative existence, i am frustrated and at a loss for written words.

of course, i am still surrounded by the advent of hipsterism, with hiptards and black label suiping fools duly out-poseuring themselves from one to the next. a constant competition to achieve the most epic status of coolness.
stop.
we don't even use the word cool anymore.
i am more awesome than you.

the nature of it is this: all hipsters hate one another. that's just the fact. it's a tacky show of who can outdo the next, while each and every true hipster in every sense of the word will hotheadedly deny that he or she is indeed a hipster.
i am not a fucking hipster okay? i just like stumbling into the assembly making trendy hand gestures for the we-are-awesome photogs in my two seconds of pictoral soliloquoy, to be shown on the blog the next day. this means that the readers (or those wishing they were YOU, God willing) can revel at your awesomeness and the awesome time you had last night.
Indeed, the hipster has taken over the post-modern world. the hipster shall inherit the earth: may your black label runneth over. and don't dare use a glass. bottle to lips only.
thank you. rant over.