Among the infinite distractions of late, including trying to get this to work, an ongoing writing crisis, plus other miscellaneous mini-crises, there are very few tributes to pay, or things worth mentioning:
+ Several weeks ago now, a headline on the front of a magazine aimed at the vapid teenage girl, asked: ‘Are you a binge thinker?’.
+ A young badass fellow at the train station, wearing a skeleton hoodie, complete with matching gloves, enjoying a pink creaming soda.
+ The recent addition to the rotation of buskers in the subway, who adjusts his small repertoire to suit his surroundings, for example, when in the dim, dank tunnel under the street, keeps it low key and depressing, yet when in the square, steps it up a bit with of ‘Calendar Girl’, and such. A sticking point is that he doesn’t know the lyrics to ‘Living Doll’. How can he call himself a busker? It’s not going to last.
+ An old lady wearing a G-Unit t-shirt.
+ Links can also make it look like I have written more:
Those golden rays, or, ravioli of the sea. I know, this was ages ago now.
At last, Alice in Wonderland in Ascii form! I know it’s awesome, but why?
A keyboard so pretty and frivolous it makes my hair curl
The Dandy Warhols are coming to Brisbane on November 5. Ticket price is steep, but I get morose at the thought of missing it.
I got my hands on this little beauty, by the inimitable Joe Ledbetter, and have also put my hand up for the sketchbook. While these two things bring me great joy, they also serve to help me try to forget this.
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