“Pure, undiluted genius.” - New York Times. Agreed. Ten kitteners from me. Elle, this would be keeping you up with the giggles till 6am, had you been in Sydney. Miss you. I’ve been happily recreating my wardrobe after this read anyhow. effy.
random rants, ramblings & revelations on the reg. presented to you by effy ohdear & elle alexa, illest of the ill.
L&
FY •
• We're nibbling on cracked clouds.
L&
FY •
• We're nibbling on cracked clouds.
i’m a quitter.
i’m also a crazy motherfucker who acts upon impulsive behaviours.
i proved that today but abruptly quitting my job.
with nothing lined up to support my newly deadbeat j-lo ass.
this could be the worse or best decision i’ve made this year.
“it was the best of times, it was the blurst of times.”
dropping the cliche - “only time will tell”.
only time will tell if i’m stupid.
only time will tell if i’m smart.
TO BE CONTINUED……
- ELLE
certified idiot.
Women Are Heroes.
How I’d love to be in New York right now.
Yes Elle, New York.
Take me with you.
Greg “Craola” Simkins - fucking AMAZING.
Not so much the sci-fi look. Love the mimicking of natural shades, tones. Coexists with fantasy creatures who are more or less compared to anybody aspiring to fuck Queen in Bohemian Rhapsody & just escape reality. Such a sad song. I’ve always been a solid make-believer.
Yes Fairy God Mother, AMAZING.
Make me just as amazing as he is. Please, thank you.
fy.
Love killed two birds with one stone.
Banksy hits NYC.
Love is serenading me..
7th of June: Banksy: Exit through the Gift Shop via Sydney Film Festival.
28th of June: Lower East Side. “New York, quieten down and I need to make a sound”
-ELLE
KEEP CALM & CARRY ON.
Originally, this was a propaganda poster designed during WWII.
revamped, revised, remixed.
here’s a few variations..
- ELLE.
“I’ve loved you from the first time I saw you. I think I was twelve. It took me three years to pluck up the courage to speak to you. And I was so scared of the way I felt, y’know, loving a girl, that I learned how to become a sarcastic bitch just to make it feel normal. I screwed guys, to make it go away, but it didn’t work. When we got together it scared the shit out of me because, you were the one person who could ruin my life. I pushed you away and made you think things were your fault but, really I was just terrified of pain. I screwed that girl Sophia to kind of spite you for having that hold on me. And I’m a total fucking coward because, I got these… these tickets to Goa for us three months ago. But I, I couldn’t stand… I didn’t want to be a slave to the way I feel about you. Can you understand? You were trying to punish me back and it’s horrible. It’s so horrible because, really, I’d die for you. I love you. I love you so much it is killing me.”
— Naomi (to Emily) (via skinscreen)
“
Mayakovsky
1
My heart’s aflutter!
I am standing in the bath tub
crying. Mother, mother
who am I? If he
will just come back once
and kiss me on the face
his coarse hair brush
my temple, it’s throbbing!
then I can put on my clothes
I guess, and walk the streets.
2
I love you. I love you,
but I’m turning to my verses
and my heart is closing
like a fist.
Words! be
sick as I am sick, swoon,
roll back your eyes, a pool,
and I’ll stare down
at my wounded beauty
which at best is only a talent
for poetry.
Cannot please, cannot charm or win
what a poet!
and the clear water is thick
with bloody blows on its head.
I embraced a cloud,
but when I soared
it rained.
3
That’s funny! there’s blood on my chest
oh yes, I’ve been carrying bricks
what a funny place to rupture!
and now it is raining on the ailanthus
as I step out onto the window ledge
the tracks below me are smoky and
glistening with a passion for running
I leap into the leaves, green like the sea
4
Now I am quietly waiting for
the catastrophe of my personality
to seem beautiful again,
and interesting, and modern.
The country is grey and
brown and white in trees,
snows and skies of laughter
always diminishing, less funny
not just darker, not just grey.
It may be the coldest day of
the year, what does he think of
that? I mean, what do I? And if I do,
perhaps I am myself again.
— Frank O’Hara
