GOD I'd pay sooooo much money to be able to see them
I also REALLY need to stop procrastinating. I've even cleaned my room. AAH.
Quite glad the mother is working next door really else I'd probably be lying here in a haze of smoke with my maths work in the bin and Portishead's thumping bass lines turned up LOUD.
So not productive. The thought of revising/learning/writing 20-odd psychology essays makes me want to vomit, hah.
It's been a good 24 hours. I gained 9K, received a date for metal work removal (8th of July <- appropriate smiley, too), found a festival to go to if funds are arranged (which Beirut were SUPPOSED to be headlining, but oh well...), engaged in intelligent conversation (a rarity), came to the conclusion that I have indeed got fantastic thighs, acquired some vaguely lemony scented herb (with discount), had two people on seperate occasions exclaim that I look like Kate from Lost (I don't, although apparently we have a similar body according to Rich..) and MY ART IS FINALLY OVER IN 3 AND A HALF HOURS.
And it's sunny.
There are lots of cute cute babies about.
This time tomorrow I will be free of A Level education FOREVER.
My bank balance just turned 5 figures. Fucking hell. That's quite scary. SEVEN THINGS THAT SCARE YOU 1. Snakes. YUCK YUCK YUCK YUCK. 2. Bugs and other creepy crawly things. 3. Flying. :( 4. Phoning people. Oh dear God. 5. Ending up at 70 years old, with a life full of regrets of things I wish I'd done, but didn't. 6. Going blind. 7. Loved ones dying.
SEVEN THINGS YOU LIKE THE MOST 1. Playing The Heart Asks Pleasure First at great speed all the way through with no mistakes. Mmmmmh 2. Summer. Spring. Sunshine. Warmth. The Sea. Flowers. Lying in the grass. 3. Exploring new places. 4. That amazing feeling when you're doing someting and things just fall into place. 5. Psychoanalysing people. 6. Ranting and getting angry about the world. 7. Something that is too naughty to write here.
SEVEN RANDOM FACTS ABOUT YOU 1. I hate gaps in curtains. 2. I have cheese and/or butter with everything. 3. My Super Sweet 16 is my guilty pleasure. Along with Justin Timberlake and Girls Aloud. Sssssh. 4. I ask annyoing questions whilst watching films. Stuff like "who's that" and "Why did they just do that?!" I also have to have subtitles on. 5. I have freckles on my eyelid. 6. People clicking their knuckles make me cringe. 7. I love cleaning my teeth. And flossing. Yeaah.
SEVEN THINGS YOU PLAN TO DO BEFORE YOU DIE 1. Sky diving. 2. Have someone paint me. In the nude. That would be fun. 3. Go horse riding on the beach. 4. TRAVEL THE WORLD. 5. Fuck MJK. Even when he's old and crusty. 6. Produce some sort of amazing building. 7. Read Nausea. Haha.
SEVEN THINGS YOU CAN DO 1.Make a good wife (if you ignore all the bad shit.) I can cook, clean, bring you beer, wax your back and nurse you when you're ill. Oh yeah, and I'll walk around in my underwear/naked on a regular basis and not care if you burp at the dinner table. 2. Paint. But I'm not very good. 3. Play the piano. But I'm not very good. 4. Reliability & punctuality. 5. Swim in the icy cold English sea. 6. Eat enough for three. 7. Ski.
SEVEN THINGS YOU CAN'T DO 1. Sing. :( 2. Dance. :( 3. Phone people. 4. Drink beer. 5. Enjoy eating carrots or peas. 6. Waiting for things. 7. Wear Uggs. Or fake uggs.
SEVEN THINGS THAT ATTRACT YOU TO THE OPPOSITE SEX 1.Confidence. (Good looks - hair!- helps.) 2. Humour. Sarcastic, witty & rude is a good combination. 3. Passion. Opinions. Fire. Drive. Anger. 4. Honesty. No games. 5. Thoughtful. 6. Intelligence & depth. 7. Good taste. Cultured.
SEVEN THINGS YOU SAY THE MOST 1. "Like". It's a bad habit. 2. "Oh my God". Likewise. 3. "Bollocks." Likewise. 4. "hallooo." I can't answer the phone in a normal voice. 5. "GOD, that PISSES me OFFFF!" Usually related to something I've just heard/read about. 6. "I've got the horn :(." ... says it all. 7. ... can't think of anything else. I just talk all the time.
SEVEN CELEB CRUSHES 1. Maynard James Keenan 2. Johnny Depp (yeahyeah) 3. Leonardo DiCaprio (shush)
Yeah, that's it. I don't fancy celebrities. I don't fancy people in general. It's either all or nothing, mateee.
Machine Gun (That song has really grown on me now.)
(This is mainly for my own amusement until I get hold of the album now that I've run out of free plays on last.fm, but whateverz.)
Am slowly losing faith in humanity, even people I thought were different are turning out to be as vacuous as everyone else. Slightly depressing. Funny how so many supposedly 'intelligent' people can't apply their brainpower to anything outside of academia, or simply outside of the wonderfully broad and challenging A-Level syllabus. What a waste.
Ah man. I started writing about how the Bragaglian idea that "the slower an object moves, the more distorted it becomes, the more unreal it is" links in to my own work because the whole concept of unconscious is 'unreal' in a way. I started writing and didn't think about it and now I'm not sure where I'm going with it. The unconscious is only unreal in the sense that it's not tangible. I suppose. Maybe. But that has nothing to do with the actual images I've created.
Gah, I might just stick a picture over the top of it or something.
Swimming in the icy cold English sea was AMAZING. At first your feet hurt like an absolute bitch but then you just get really really warm and stop feeling the cold. Apart from the fingers, which go all stiff and make swimming kinda difficult.
This summer, I may make a mini-trip through Ausria, Italy, Croatia, Hungary. Maybe. If funds and things can be sorted.
Ah, spring. Time of hormones and loved-up couples. If I read anything more about the latter, I may have to hit my head against a wall.
Tempted to go for a swim later just for the sake of it, but 12°C is really quite cold, especially when one has no rolls to keep them warm.
Art is going soooo slooooowly, and I'm turning into an A* bullshitter. Waffling on about psychology and links between movements and then tying it all in with my own crap work must get me brownie points surely. Although how I'll link in Futurism and Balla's "dynamism of dog on a leash" to metamorphosis and symbolism and the unconscious, I'm not yet sure.
I also feel like I'm corrupting my little brother, which is not so good but quite amusing. I feel like we've bonded. Not too soon really, it's been 15 years of war consisting of arm scratching (we still bear the scars) and throwing things and swearing at each other.
I'm liking The Chameleons at the moment. Script Of The Bridge is fantastic and summery and sounds like The Smiths. Even though The Chameleons were around first. Hohum.
I have the taste of spinach and beef and tomato in my mouth which really isn't a pleasant combination.
I’d like to laugh at what you said
Current mood: frustrated
but I just can't find a smile.
SO, I didn't finish. I knew I wouldn't. There is a big white gap in the corner and the background is.. shit. Blergh.
I actually wanted to cry. I really hate it. So annoyed/disappointed with myself. GAH.
(lolz, my stuff always looks so.. psychedelic) Meh. It's so disjointed. The background was meant to pull it all together, but NO I didn't have time to do it. And the bugs are 3D and you can't even SEE that. And it's just such a shit idea. Blergh. Was much better & made more sense in my head.
Should've done a smaller canvas & something more NORMAL, just like everyone else. Pah.
To do - (i like lists): - Write about my Steinbachian sculptures - Finish Lisa Milroy research - Write about .. time - sort out watch photography stuff - write about Tate visit that supposedly happened over Easter.. but really happened in February - Write about Dali & The Hallucinogenic Toreador - write about my weird manipulated hand things - write about Anton Bragaglia & photodynamism - sort out my weird futurist type hand images - write about/draw my spider/hand sculpture - write about the monoprinting experiments and paint over them - really long beefy evaluation - mount everything - go over a few drawings/paintings
- wax legs
Fuuuuuuuuuck. I think I'll start with the bottom of the list.
I'm rather liking last.fm's "similar artists" thing, but it pisses me off that some tracks have limited plays. Boo.
So, apparently weed was reclassified today. Yadda yadda. Absolute morons.
The taste of life I can't describe It's choking on my mind Reaching out I can't believe Faith it can't decide
On and on I carry on But underneath my mind And on and on I tell my self It's this I can't disguise
Oh can't you see Holding on to my heart I bleed the taste of life
The pace, the time, I can't survive It's grinding down the view Breaking out which way to choose A choice I can't renew
Holding on I carry on But underneath my mind And on and on I tell my self It's this I can't disguise
Oh can't you see Holding on to my heart I bleed, no place is safe Can't you see the taste of life
New Portishead Album <3. It's daaaark.
Art is going awfully (I came very close to swearing at the nazi teacher and just splashing paint all over my canvas) aaaand I'm not going to finish in time.
Fuckety.
Yesterday's lebanese cow poo pie is playing havoc with my stomach and I feel rather queasy.
Dipped my feet in the cold English sea earlier. That was rather yummy.
"The Nausea is not inside me: I feel it out there in the wall, in the suspenders, everywhere around me. It makes itself one with the café, I am the one who is within it.
Nothing seemed true; I felt surrounded by cardboard scenery which could quickly be removed…"
I feel like I need to vomit. It won't go away. And I'm almost certain that it's purely psychological.
Dress shopping highly unsuccessful. I'm sick of trying things on that don't fit because they're made for people with big tits and no waist. *sigh* I swear everything looks like a bloody bag on me. Lots of posing:
Blue & Black. (Tears on a river, Push on a shove, It don't mean much. Joker on jack, Match on a fire, Cold on ice, A dead man's touch. Whisper on a scream doesn't change a thing..)
My mirror needs cleaning. My room needs cleaning. Revision needs doing. This weather is so fucking grim and if the summer turns out to be like this I'll go insane.
If I hear anymore OMG U R SO SKINNAY!11 I will fucking SCREAM.
Been thinking about the Austrian mentality this morning. Apparently most of the Austrian literature is really fucking grim and often involves people being kept in cellars. There is something Freudian there, I swear.
The Fritzl story only managed to go undetected for so long because a) The Austrians love brushing things under the carpet & b) because Mr Fritzl had money, appeared "proper", knew "people", and it's all about bloody appearances and status in that beautiful but horrible little country. As soon as anyone doesn't want to follow this, they get shot down. People, the Government, everyone makes life fucking difficult and unpleasant for you. Hence why we left.
Sigh. I love Vienna but I could never live there again. It's a shame really.
1. 5 hours of painting 2. This happened in complete silence, with no music or chatter for company. 3. The knowledge that this was only the first session of three. 4. The fact that the painting was going terribly SLOWLY and the worry that I will not finish the piece in time 5. The fact I fucking hate it already 6. Looking at all my project as a whole makes me want to burn it. 7. The pollen/plaster dust in the air making my eyes water continuously 8. Cramps Of Doom 9. That Time Of The Month turning into That Time Every Three Weeks 10. Awful headache 11. Being told to do "lots more art" over the weekend.
BLERGGHH.
I swear I'm living life trough a haze of fog. I feel like I should be able to see more, hear more, feel more, smell more, taste more. I think my mind needs detoxing or something. (Obviously not getting enough REM sleep...) I need some sort of ZAP. Zing. Wham.
...yeah.
SOMEHOW.
Something's not quite right and I can't figure it out.
I'm an idiot for spending last night watching a shit film called "Unknown" instead of doing art. I now have an observational painting of my hands to do (back to square one?!) and some stupid dream-like colour.. thing. And shit loads of sketchbook stuff. And some massive write-up of the nature/nurture debate.
Death. I don't want Friday to come. I can't stay silent for 5 hours :(.
Random picture time.
I love getting free stuff. This. And this. (I want to read them all over the summer but I'll blatantly give up after the first two. I'm still only on page 30 of Nausea, despite starting it last week. It's tiring to read, but I quite like it.)
(That shoe on the far left DOES MY HEAD in because it looks so deformed >_<. Also, death to chalk. :-|)
So going to take longer than 15 hours. And uuuugh, I hate it already. FFS. This always happens. ALWAYS.
<- appropriate smiley, too), found a festival to go to if funds are arranged (which Beirut were SUPPOSED to be headlining, but oh well...), engaged in intelligent conversation (a rarity), came to the conclusion that I have indeed got fantastic thighs, acquired some vaguely lemony scented herb (with discount), had two people on seperate occasions exclaim that I look like Kate from Lost (I don't, although apparently we have a similar body according to Rich..) and MY ART IS FINALLY 
frustrated
sad
