Grandma's closet

At the moment I’ve been obsessed with hand writing letters to friends as a form of procrastination. Its working wonders, so far, as I haven’t handed in a single piece in yet and I’m miles behind on my readings. It may come down to the fact that I’m just not motivated to do any work outside of the lecture theatres and tutorials, or it could just be the horrible choice of subjects. Honestly, who chooses a unit called “An Introduction to Painting and Drawing” when trying to draw a three dimensional cylinder (with shading) almost reduces them to tears.

I was beginning to think how much fun it would be if I could use a typewriter to type my friend’s letters, and I knew that my mother had one as a child. So I went and visited my grandfather and started rummaging through all the cupboards in his house trying to find this damned typewriter. While I was browsing through all the rooms, my mother was going through her old wardrobe and all clothes that she owned. So I abandoned my quest and started going through her clothes too. So instead of coming home with a typewriter (we couldn't find it anyway) I came home with 3 pairs of acid wash jeans, a couple of blazers, jackets and this amazing fur coat that belonged to my grandmother.

I’ll have to continue hand writing my letters for the while, but I’ll get myself a type writer sooner or later.

One Night Of Magic Rush

Sources: Een, Twee, Drie, Vier, Vijf

Source: suzywire.tumblr.com

I Can't See You Every Night

"She is more body than soul, more soul than mind. To her belongs all that is beautiful, even the very word beauty itself. All that exists to beautify her. The sun shines only to burnish her skin an gild her hair; the wind blows only to whip up the colour in her cheeks; the sea strives to bather her; flowers die gladly so that her skin may luxuriate in their essence. She is the crown of creation, the masterpiece. The depths of sea are ransacked for pearl and coral to deck her; the bowels of the earth are laid open that she might wear gold, sapphires, diamonds and rubies. Baby seals are battered with staves, unborn lambs ripped from their mothers’ wombs, millions of moles, muskrats, squirrels, minks, ermines, foxes, beavers, chinchillas, ocelots, lynxes, and other small and lovely creatures die untimely deaths that she might have furs. Egrets, ostriches and peacocks, butterflies and beetles yield her their plumage. Men risk their lives hunting leopards for her coats, and crocodiles for her handbags and shoes. Millions of silkworms offer her their yellow labours; even the seamstress roll seams and whip lace by hand, so that she might be clad in the best that money can buy."

- Germaine GreerSource: knighttcat.com

Just One Note Could Make Me Float

Sources: Un, Deux, Trois, Quatre, Cinq

I Can't Get No Relief

It's not like I'd ever tell him I fancied him. Oh no, that's far too risky. It'd ruin out friendship; it would.
Have we already pushed that barrier? Probably.
But it was nothing, right?
It was an accident. Merely an accident that just happened to occur on two completely separate occasions.
But not again. I swear never...

NB: "Never" would obviously be discarded if said he wanted to.
By god, I hope he wants to.