When time stands still

I can't stand the hostile and withdrawn impression that can sometimes latch onto my neighbourhood, it's like a measly attempt by the residents at creating some sort of divine utopia in otherwise tainted confines (it is important to note that by no means is this me throwing a hormonal, adolescent strop and my thirst for wanderlust can be severely justified). However I gritted my teeth and decided that the time came to disarm and surrender to these deceptive and roguish fields and prior to collapsing into nature's arms, my sister and I had brief cycling venture, that resulted in the bicycle letting out some sort of troubling blare as though the tyre was undergoing a slow death. Thankfully, we reached our destination in one piece, a derelict spot of green that was seasoned with hundreds of daisies, and spent the afternoon forming dainty chains, a luxury I could never master as a child.

I recalled Lars Von Trier's Antichrist and the moment He beckoned She to "lie down on the green":

She: You want me to lie down?

  
He: Lie down on the grass.

  
She: On top of all the plants?

  
He: Yes, lie down on the plants.

  
Are you lying down?

  
She: Yes.

  
He: Good.

  
What is everything like around you?

  
She: Green.

  
It's all very green.

  
He: Good.

  
Now will you do what I ask you?

  
She: Yes.

  
What do you want me to do?

  
He: I want you...

  
to melt into the green.

  
Don't fight it.

  
Just... turn... green.

(I saw five magpies today, though I can't say I've acquired any new silver. Then I saw two repeatedly, I'm a sucker for superstition.)

"What's in a name? That which we call a rose by any other name would smell as sweet."

I'm still getting used to this blogger malachy, I'm miserable because I deleted all my literature vomit I wrote in relation to this post and I've been mega lazy to rewrite it ever since but here I am now, tattering away at my filthy macbook keypad, its so revolting that I long for it to be sterile and smell of that freshly bought, brand spanking shiny veneer that you get when you witness the birth of a new gift. But moving swiftly on...

Last Saturday my mum, my sister and I decided to pay a visit to Holland Park and Kensington Gardens, all the surrounding nooks and crannies of former childhood crusades. We doused in the sun's premature swelter and sensed all those too familiar fumes; the roses' glory, no longer was I looking through those worldly infant eyes but instead for me their existence had shrunk down to purely entertaining mothers pushing prams and kids' clammy, dirt ridden hands as they lie doomed in their perfectly squared out coffin dimensions. What I didn't recognise was the unsettling stench of weed that masked the timeless aura of my old paths but I made an appropriate remark to my sister and laughed, thinking to myself how I'm no longer a transparent four year old with stumps for limbs.

(me getting my wistful face on? Rodin, I make a better thinker, don't you agree.)

Claggie.

Remember these faces. Take a good look at them. They're the best motherfuckin faces in town.

Very Happy.

I'm posting a completely irrelevant post to my blogspot (or should I make that bloodspot as the free blogging website is constantly being autocorrected to that on my mac, plaguing my dreams of an internet princess) about the moody month of May and my thirst for the sweat of the inevitable canicule that will soon barge into our lives like an unwanted visitor and plagues us with sticky bones. I swear by the creed that nothing can blemish my balanced mind and I welcome that smile.

I'm also trying to read more, I was never too fond of books and I knew that people would always hold this against me and shun me and as much as I shouldn't feel the need to conform to others' opinions, I do find myself less and less intellectually stimulated. So I'm reading Milan Kundera's The Unbearable Lightness of Being and I thought I'd quote one passage that put a smile on my face :))))))))))))))

"All languages that derive from Latin form the word 'compassion' by combining the prefix meaning 'with' (com-) and the root meaning 'suffering' (Late Latin, passio). In other languages - Czech, Polish, German, and Swedish, for instance - this word is translated by a noun formed of an equivalent prefix combined with the word that means 'feeling' (Czech, sou-cit; Polish, współ-czucie; German, Mit-gefühl; Swedish, med-känsla)... This kind of compassion...therefore signifies the maximal capacity of affective imagination, the art of emotional telepathy. In the hierarchy of sentiments, then, it is supreme."

Walk like an Egyptian...

I have an embarrassing tendency to squeal with glee when I hear the words fancy dress, so when I received an invitation to a costume party I did not let the occasion surpass me. Instead I got arts and crafts happy and in my manic fit created a cardboard headdress and accessories any fit ruler of the empire would be proud of. Oh and I didn't forget the macaroni and pva.

(I can be a bit strange... and lurking in the background is a piece I did back when I was in college, any guesses on what it's quasi erotic ambiguity is meant to suggest...)

And now for some divine musing and inspiration on all things ancient Egyptian!

(ooops me again)

I drew ideas from Elizabeth Taylor's make up palette in Cleopatra, below.

I also found out that Ancient Egyptian's believed that a tattoo of a sparrow on your body would carry the souls of you and who you loved into the next life together. I'll take that into account next time I'm debating permanently scarring my body.