Tuesday, 28 June 2011
It's a tad melodramatic, but Kiera Knightly and Sienna Miller look so beautiful in it. I love their various lodgings, all very run-down, but absolutely charming and cosy - very, very shabby (chic.) I also love their clothes, make-up and some of the lines - (very romantic.)
'No harm will ever come to you. Not from me, not from anyone else. And while I'm here, no word of mine will ever hurt you.'
'I do it, sleep with other women... because I'm a poet, and a poet feeds off life.'
'All my words and every heartbeat, they're all for you.'
I am so, so sorry for my lack of posting.. I have been having trouble getting online.
(All screenshots and many more taken from HERE.)
CLICK ON THE PICTURES TO SEE THEM IN GLORIOUS DETAIL!
Wednesday, 22 June 2011
I am very intrigued by this new play at The Barbican - Lullaby.
It's a bedtime show, played throughout the night and watched in bed.
Yes, in beds (lovely ones though - Toast is supplying organic bed linen and cushions.) Each evening for the next month, play goers can book either a single, double or triple sized bed, don their pyjamas and listen to a soothing performance of bedtime stories and lullaby's throughout the entire night, all of which are designed to gently lull the audience into a lovely night of slumber.
In the morning the audience are supplied with a hearty breakfast and depart the theatre, ready to continue with their days as normal. It all sounds great, great fun and I am very much hoping to go.
(All photos by Toast.)
Monday, 20 June 2011
Carrie's apartment may be a little rough around the edges, but it's certainly well lived in - it's probably every single girls dream to live in a flat just like hers.
I love her comfy looking chairs, the tonnes and tonnes of books and magazines and her bed, at the centre of everything. Her little bathroom reminds me of the one I had at university - a little damp but perfect for the job.
I like the episodes when Carrie returns to her wonderful apartment after a hard day / night, and somehow, everything seems infinitely better... I guess everyone feels like that when they get home...
(but wouldn't it be even better to call this home.. a cosy place in the middle of Manhattan with all your stuff in it - and all of your very own.. ahh...)
(Pictures from 'Sex and the City, Kiss and Tell.'
Sunday, 19 June 2011
A lovely optimistic poem for this evening. Very self explanatory and just the thing required for an evening such as this - gathering strength ahead of another exhausting week.
I will try hard to post lots more this week, I have been very busy and it all looks to continue... Nevertheless;
Not all things go wrong by Fleix Dennis
Not all things go wrong..., and knowing
This, be wary of despair,
As you go through hell - keep going,
Make no brave oasis there.
Through the shadow lands of grieving,
Past the giants, doubt and fear,
Heartsick, stunned and half believing -
Heed no whispher in your ear.
Not all things go wrong - and after
Winters famine comes the spring,
Kindness, beauty, childrens laughter -
Joy is ever on the wing.
(Enjoy your evening, I shall be cleansing my face with Clarins products and drinking lots of herbal tea. Photos are from tumblr.)
Saturday, 18 June 2011
I was intrigued when a friend mentioned it and after hearing Lauren Lavern talking about it on the radio, I set my heart on it.
It's more of an arts-based festival than a musical one, though Anthony & the Johnsons are playing.. who I would quite like to see. There is a spa area which looks wonderful, a crystal clear lake for swimming in, yoga sessions and great dining opportunities. There are also lots of literary acts and performances, including contemporary dance, which I love!
I am excited about it all - but perhaps the highlight for me is The Last Tuesday Society's midnight masked ball. On the Saturday night the whole festival will be transformed into a giant naughty party full of weird and wonderful entertainments in the middle of the night; and strange goings-on in the woodland. It sounds like a debauched night straight out of a Fitzgerald novel with an eccentric English edge.
(Photos are linked to Wilderness Festival)
Monday, 13 June 2011
This picture is from the current edition of Elle UK - I had to share it with you because, like of all of Rob Ryan's work, it's beautiful and sentimental and really, really sweet.
The text accompanying the image reads:
'I love Jonathan Richman's song Everyday Clothes; it's about liking his girlfriend when she's not dressed up. This image of my wife, Lorna, at 18, says just that.' ...
(The scan is from Elle UK, July 2011)
Sunday, 12 June 2011
I heard the song on the radio a few days ago and rejoiced as I probably hadn't listened to it in about seven years, (or something.)
As it is a miserable, rainy Sunday, I thought this was the perfect nostalgia piece. It reminds me of feeling like a schoolgirl; dreaming about being a grown up and wondering about where I might belong in the world.. (I'm still wondering.)
I highly recommend listening to the song..
Scottish Fiction by Edwin Morgan
It isn't in the mirror
It isn't in the castle
(Pictures are linked, via Tumblr. Enjoy your eve. Another busy week is in store for me. 7am wake up call tomorrow.)
Thursday, 9 June 2011
I will miss my old phone. It's been there for two years. Two years spent staring at it, waiting for phone calls. Two years smiling at it, like a goof, when receiving a text message from the best person in the world and two years crying hysterically down it, when something goes wrong, to my wonderful, long suffering parents and best friends. Ahh, it's been a good run.
I'm looking forward to feeling all important whilst checking e-mails and my location on GPS. Though, I am a little nervous as it has lots of mod cons which mean that I am likely to be constantly surfing the Internet and doing social networking stuff... which I already do far too much of anyway..
Plus, I hear there is an incredibly daunting feature whereby you can see if someone has read the text you sent them - and therefore know if someone is ignoring you. I think that's technology gone too far.
I am just very worried that I will start to rely on this small piece of machinery to replace my brain. I think I will have to enforce some usage rules for myself....
(Check out this, to find out about the time when I lost my last phone..)
Wednesday, 8 June 2011
Since hearing Fionn Regan's new track on the radio, late on Sunday night, I have been obsessed with it and listening to it at every single chance I get.
What's especially great is that it's available as a free download from Fionn Regan's website.. which is wonderful news for those who, like me, are absolutely desperate to have this song in their lives...
'Rise up from the trappings of flesh and the holdings of skin..' mmm
100 ACRES OF SYCAMORE
(All this stuff is from his website.)
Monday, 6 June 2011
I have recently learnt that being a 'freelancer' requires a lot of self motivation. Luckily, after three years of writing essays at University, I have it down!
I find the best thing to do is get up early, as this is the time when my ideas flow and after lunch I read and search.
Now, if only my work space were a little more glamorous, perhaps like some of the following.. Ahhh, one day!
Sofia Coppola's home office:
Kris from Kris Atomic:
Kate Singleton from Art Hound (via SFGbybay)
(All pictures are linked up.)
Sunday, 5 June 2011
In the Beginning by Dylan Thomas
In the beginning was the three-pointed star,
One smile of light across the empty face,
One bough of bone across the rooting air,
The substance forked that marrowed the first sun,
And, burning ciphers on the round of space,
Heaven and hell mixed as they spun.
In the beginning was the pale signature,
Three-syllabled and starry as the smile,
And after came the imprints on the water,
Stamp of the minted face upon the moon;
The blood that touched the crosstree and the grail
Touched the first cloud and left a sign.
In the beginning was the mounting fire
That set alight the weathers from a spark,
A three-eyed, red-eyed spark, blunt as a flower,
Life rose and spouted from the rolling seas,
Burst in the roots, pumped from the earth and rock
The secret oils that drive the grass.
In the beginning was the word, the word
That from the solid bases of the light
Abstracted all the letters of the void;
And from the cloudy bases of the breath
The word flowed up, translating to the heart
First characters of birth and death.
In the beginning was the secret brain.
The brain was celled and soldered in the thought
Before the pitch was forking to a sun;
Before the veins were shaking in their sieve,
Blood shot and scattered to the winds of light
The ribbed original of love.
(I hope for better sleep and more clarity this week, just one night of melancholy before a big week. Photos are linked.)
Wednesday, 1 June 2011
I suppose that thoughts of holidays should really have been filling my head during the days when I had nothing to do; but now I have lots to do and I all I can think of is spending time sleeping in, taking long showers and reading books.. isn't that always the way...
(Images are scanned from Toast catalogue)