Fog.

Dec 30, 2011.

Memory of the week.

One of the places in the world that is very close to my heart is London's Victoria and Albert Museum. 

















Say what you want, it's touristy and whatever, but it's also beautiful, welcoming and atmospheric. I think the whole thing is just such an incredibly accidental work of art. There is nothing sterile or posh or classist about the V&A, it's much too ostentatious and tries with every staircase and doorway to entertain its patrons in this ridiculous mess of styles, periods and concepts. I don't know if real Londoners go to the V&A, but if I lived there I'd go all the time; go just to go. It's such a wonderful celebration of Britishness.

I also love the whole idea of the museum being a tribute to Victoria and Albert, who represent so many things that are good about Britain; progressiveness, vision etc, and also a tribute to the love they shared and the impact that had on the country at the time. I mean, that's just nice.

It is, of course, one of the world's most comprehensive museums it its own right, but that fact alone will bore those who want to experience realness when visiting a country because museums are not "realness" unless we're talking about the trendy ones, and Brits don't do trendy when it comes to these kinds of things. But if you want to see Britishness at its best - self-aware and clever but also proud and serious about it - go to the V&A. At the very least it will explain why I'm obsessed with William Morris and the Madejski Garden Kiosk's pumpkin soup. 

"How charming. A finale." - Memory of the week.

Saw this on opening night. What an emotional roller-coaster. I'm so glad it was good. Few things make me nostalgic because I don't like to have feelings anymore, but I was happy to make an exception for this. Kermit was actually my first celebrity crush. Who knew I would spend the rest of my young life falling for sensitive but ultimately unavailable men just like him?

Figures. 

Saturdays.

I wrote a lot of poetry when I was in love - not mushy shit, I was just more in touch with my creative self because that seems to be the nature of the affliction. Anyway I just found a bunch of it and might clean it up a bit and post it.

In the meantime.

Julia Hetta for Acne. 
Come on...

Septembers and Augusts.

"Tonight I pressed my fingers into the wood of my desk and tried to feel the essence of the world around me. But then a really magical part of the song I was listening to came on, and I got distracted from trying to connect with the essence of the world through a piece of Ikea furniture and just started dancing. And then I felt a lot of things. The slight pang of a closing wound as the singer of the song wrapped his voice around a tone and interval that sounded just like another song that reminded me of somebody who used to love me. Then the considerably more distinctive surge of actual pain as I said that sentence to myself in my head. And then a dismissal of those feelings because the song is more beautiful than I am sad. And that is something I never thought I'd say again. I just wish I knew what to do now." 

Gaga.

Don't know why I fucking love this so much.
(Logan White, Bad Manor). 

Six flip and fifth the wrist.

Sometimes I think about things like the Goebbels children or cane toads and I'm all "fuck the world is just a horrible place." But then I think about things like the "Wacking Day" episode of The Simpsons or the fact that my parents buy amazing Christmas crackers with shit like playing cards and yo-yos and I'm all, "OK life. Well played."

Reasons I'm not on Tumblr.

1. Because I don't like change. 
2. Because you're on Tumblr.