LINE IN THE SAND

 That's why I haven't been writing.

Guns 'n' Roses tonight, Slackline Yoga tomorrow, Motocross Saturday and Fencing on Sunday.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

KEEPING SKELETONS IN THE CLOSET IS A WASTE OF SPACE

 YAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

 YAYYYYYY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

...AND I JUST LOVE THIS SCARF!!!!

EATING: eggs lovingly made by the mummy

DRINKING: sorrel with vodka - 'tis the season to be merry, y'all!

SINGING: Snoop Dogg's 'Sexual Eruption' haha

READING: Ernesto Che Guevara: Reminiscences of the Cuban Revolutionary War

WEARING: big scarves that cover my entire outfit, denim shirts, bell bottoms, badly made bras, hair ribbons and frilly blouses with Halloween bats on them

WONDERING: ...where the hell my paycheck is?

ANTICIPATING: getting paid, Creamfields, Guns 'n' Roses, my next swap social this weekend, Fencing on Wednesday, camping in the desert next week and Motocross next weekend!

LOVING: one dirham coins, public transportation, sorrel and vodka, a kitchen savvy boyfriend, days off, odd jobs here and there that bring in random, much-needed cash

WILL BE MISSING: those black pointy tipped sunglasses I wear all the time (in the style of the Linda Farrow/Wang ones) - They broke last night. Also, my boyfriend is moving out to some special accommodation in the desert so I will only be seeing him once a week from January. That's gonna ache like seeing your pet fish die over and over again *droopy face*

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

STEALING ALL THE LIGHT

How to wear a denim button down with prints and neon?

Just fuckin' do it!

A day in the office.

Just got back from kayaking on the mangroves. It's been a long and overly active couple weeks. I am officially pooped. Signing off.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

PILLOW TALK

My boss called me up the other night and asked me if I wanted to write a report on some yacht race happening in Dubai. I get there half an hour late and next thing you know I'm being whipped by a massive entourage through the VIP entrance to a ritzy yacht - I kept all of them from enjoying the first 30 minutes of what followed; mini course after mini course of the kind of food that was clearly hidden from me all my life, that alongside unlimited Moet and Coronitas til sun down (DID YOU KNOW ABOUT THESE? CUTEST THINGS EVER!!!). And you can bet your bottom dollar I grabbed one of those designer SPF lotions fanned out on that silver platter at the entrance. Typical freelancer behaviour.

What my boss failed to mention was that I was covering the Louis Vuitton Trophy and that I was going to get on board one of the vessels to race as the 18th man. Didn't happen, though, due to crappy winds and major race delays. Not that I minded, obviously! But I could've gotten many more flutes down the chute if I wasn't so busy being a professional journalist (and the only one not carrying any LV anywhere on their person) preparing to compete on the high seas - aka painfully sober.

Still, a great day had. Even better, after declining a ride home because no one knew that I had travelled all the way from another Emirate aboard a public bus for two hours to get there, I arrived home to find lovely noises in my kitchen - COOKING! The Fox had a whole feast in the works. AND it was carb free (yeah, this again...). I love him, oh I do, I do! The only problem is he made a big egg breakfast again for me this morning even though it was his first day back to work from vacay (and no carbs in there either) so it means I've got to come up with something extra special in the next few hours.

Oh, to hell with it. I'll let the pillow do the talking.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

I'VE GOT STAINS ON MY TSHIRT

Behind the scenes of one of my latest little projects.

I wanna be a stylist, man.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

PATCHIN' THAT SHIT UP

I don't know if it counts as rock star sexy or as plain rude if you drunkenly propose to your girl with a cigarette in one hand and booze in the other, but I'll take it.

Just kidding. He would never marry me. Not unless he valued his manhood.

...Looking over some pictures from last weekend...If I hadn't taken Susan Miller's advice and booked myself in for a mini break at the end of May, then I probably would've fainted last week at work - it was very testing. Not only was one of our main writers off on holiday in London, we moved to the supposed new media hub in town that's actually really so far out of town, you can get lost wandering around in the desert looking for noon time supplements - too much to ask? Jesus, I've been eating ziplock bagged grapes and granola with green tea (and occasionally packaged organic miso soup) everyday for the last week, and it's starting to show. I know, I know, I'm learning a very valuable and wallet-friendly lesson here, but it doesn't really mean shit when it's Print Day and I'm scrambling to piece together another feature because we had to drop the last one due to someone failing to advertise, and everyone's already half past frazzled not because it's 6pm, but because there's no more sugar in the entire office for tea. Needless to say, that weekend getaway to Yas Island replenished my energy levels and I made it through. On the other hand, if I hadn't taken that mini break, I would've had a lot more money to work with this month instead of 1000 dirhams MAX!

But that's when being a journalist becomes the coolest - when you're really down and out but you have a business card file full of reliable clients who will practically suck on your big toe if you so much as mention THINKING about spending time at their establishment for your precious 5 days off. DAY 1 of my 5-day holiday sees me, yes okay, applying for a national ID card (because they're threatening to make my money innaccessible if I don't get one, among other things), returning a leather fringe jacket and neon green crop top because they are just only okay and I'd much rather have some money to feed myself over the next few days, but also meeting with a PR person I actually adore for a 4 star lunch on Radisson Blu. I also have some 'I owe you one' spa treatments and hotel facility day passes lined up over the week that I've been saving up for a time just like this. A bit pathetic, but I think it comes with the territory.  

As for now, I'm just enjoying the fact that I've been lying on my bed for the whole morning, that there's plenty of sugar for tea to go around at home and that I have ample reading material to plough through from way back when I was under the impression that I would still have time to read one novel a week and still work.

IȾ iϟ Ẇrittɇn.

LISTENING TO YOU, I GET THE MUSIC

I just worked 14 hours, and then when it was time for dinner, I worked again as I had to review the restaurant. But ending off a day like this by watching Woodstock: The Director's Cut, the sexy people that walked the face of that period (including fringe jacketed Roger Daltry) and hearing this song (with the help of a little alcohol) makes me not mind facing it all again tomorrow. I think the Woodstock DVD should be a prerequisite to any work day. And alcohol.

But speaking of Woodstock (and let me take a convenient moment to wish you happy 4/20), something like (and unlike) the modern day equivalent will be hitting my shores this weekend and I plan to get thoroughly wet and wild for Damian Marley on the Saturday. And that is all.

HALF OF THE TIME WE'RE GONE BUT WE DON'T KNOW WHERE

This is a big one...(oh, and I actually wrote it today, the 16th, rather than the 11th but it was a draft from before...not that it matters)

Ah, yes, April, the month of fools. This is a picture of what I thought was probably the last smile of mine for April as hours later reality punched me in the face. I scattered my salary across Dubai Mall like the ashes of someone you thought couldn't die fast enough into the Atlantic Sea. Kiddos, my wallet is so badly bruised that the office was in shock yesterday to see me join them in the kitchen with a cup of noodles that I pulled from my new office drawer stash - 'you finally caught on; life in Abu Dhabi is deceptively expensive. Welcome!' Hey, well at least I make broke look good with my caged stilettos, studded Zara jacket, H&M skinnies with leather knees and shameless copy of the Wang/Farrow sunglasses; cuppa noodles never looked this sexy.

To put salt on the rim and a lemon wedge on top of that, The Fox and I have been apartment hunting - yes, I know; it's way too soon. We should at least have a pregnancy scare first haha. But what can I say? For me, 2010 is all about going with my gut feeling. In fact, we visited one seriously perfect candidate last night and I have to say, it literally hurts my heart the way they go about leasing these things here. You're expected to pay the full year up front. I imagine that right now you're grabbing your pockets and wincing the way guys tense up and pass a hand near their crotch when something really bad happens to a character's penis in a movie. Maybe, since this blog is starting to gain a lot more interest, I should get you guys to sign a petition for me to get it down to at least 4 payments a year. Seal that with a kiss, et voila. I'm adorable enough to get away with it, right? We'll see; because the way I've sort of quietly nudged this topic into family dinner conversation, the parental unit is not at all pleased and I may have to take matters into my own hands.

Also, since I can't own a Mercedes G-Class Off-roader (although technically I can own anything I say I can, says my hypnotherapist) another thing I could see myself spending a small fortune on this year is a Jeep Wrangler Sport in Rescue Green, which for some reason has been conveniently presenting itself all over town these last couple weeks. I hailed one once like a cab just to see if my mind was powerful enough yet that it would stop, eject its passenger, ever so slightly recline the seat to suit and start playing Empire of the Sun. But no, not yet; my mind still has a long way to go.

No more weekly quirky nail colour applications from my lovely Filipino gal pals next door.

As if I didn't feel milked already, I now have an udder on my head; a souvenir from my brother who just made his first trip to Turkey. He's very pleased with himself too. He's going away to college soon in Canada and I felt that if I bought him an iPod nano (he's never owned an MP3 Player and we've already hit 2010) that I would get something really great back in return for my selfless act. I got udders. But I jest; I didn't expect anything major back from him; from the forces that be, maybe. Ever since I started doing hypnotherapy, I've realised something very simple about the world and the energy we share in it. Think of a revolving clothesline with clean and dirty laundry on it. The more clean clothes I put out on it to dry, the more dry, clean clothes than dirty should come back around on it to me. And if dirty laundry is coming round the bend, I don't have to pick it up; it's my choice what I decide to gather and put out. I think that's the best way to describe it.

I could probably call my life right now by the same title but no unfair moment lasts forever. Unfair is a new magazine in Abu Dhabi that's actually based in Paris, and I was thinking of sending over my CV just for the hell of it, as it's fashion and all and at the moment I write about everything from the best nurseries in the city to where you can sample camel pizza. Don't get me wrong, I love my job to bits and pieces but it would be nice to get that one step closer to the perfect scenario; and as you're probably aware, perfect scenario for me means making a living writing while being comfortably seated at one of the best tables in fashion heaven. So instead of seeking outside help to achieve this, I threw some freshly washed linens onto the clothesline. I proposed a fashion section to my editorial team and it looks like...*cue Travis Barker on the drums*...I am now head of fashion at our magazine! So much to do to prepare! So much to wear and to see worn!

What's more is I am supposed to be throwing my first sale event next month - as frequent readers may already know, I've been investing a little money into rounding up some unique and cute pieces I find on my travels (and in obscure shops around town) for my own mini business and it's been going really well. But as the deadline draws nearer, I don't think I've gathered enough for a full wine and cheese event so I may just do some wardrobe spring cleaning and sell a few items secondhand as well. A studio apartment simply won't be able to hold all this clothes anyway.


And then here's me in a magazine itself! Kind of beyond embarassing but it's funny because in the photo we can see my new Samsung Corby mobile phone which was stolen that very same day on my way home from work (I'm pretty sure this was in April too). I bought it 6 days before that. Now because my hypnotherapist has been diligently implanting positive thoughts into my mind as I sit in the deepest darkest depths of it in search of The Uber Kara, prior to sessions I would've said 'FUCK MY LIFE' or sung 'More Money, More Problems' then holed up in my room with a bottle from my parent's cabinet and put myself to sleep to some Doom Metal. But I don't believe in saying things like this anymore because believe me, it really is mind over matter and so far, despite all this, somehow my life has been going amazingly.


So what's on the agenda for today? I've already foolishly decided against Muay Thai this morning and my body (which has been very keen to become Lady Gaga's recently) is not pleased for the break in the slightest, so up next (if The Fox will take my calls) is some big beach party on another island just off Abu Dhabi. My friend the English Russian lives on a boat and so he might be taking a couple of folks over, feeding us, boozing us up and entertaining us with silly BDSM jokes first though, which the party promoters aren't! I know; I've already given myself a pat on the back for choosing the right friends!

LICKING AND SCRATCHING, AND NEVER MATCHING

It's the end of a really hectic work week and I am sitting at home sipping on cold soy vanilla chai tea (soon to be replaced with liqueur), watching RocknRolla on Show on Demand while wearing an almond/cucumber/pineapple face mask that has been on so long it's beginning to hurt. I'm also in that mood you sometimes get in where you want to cut shit up...

Know of it? Wearing these tonight to go to Left Bank with the Palestinians

ANYWAY, what did you get up to this week? I...
-gutted and cut up some expensive gloves
-interviewed major Bollywood star Shahrukh Khan (as well as attended the premiere of his movie My Name is Khan)
-got my period
-bought another pair of sunglasses
-fought with The Fox over which one of us should buy this sword necklace we saw (he won...in an ideal world - going to buy it next week)
-was given a ring...fuck no, not that one but this really cute and quirky one I mentioned liking in passing and which The Fox later picked up for me
-drank Sangria on a terrace with glowing tea candles
-got paid
-booked a hotel in another country
-paid back any outstanding debts I owed
-switched numbers with a gay flight attendant who didn't believe that The Fox (who he was advancing on) wasn't gay
-wrote an article on last minute Valentine's Day gift ideas
-got commissioned to review a German bar this coming Valentine's Day (all complimentary and including a +1!)
-got into Google Alerts in a major way (so ridiculously ideal for writers/bloggers that I don't know how I ever lived without it)
-finally did a blog post on the Kill City blog (and you would think I'd be posting 3 times a day knowing that each post is worth credit to their amazing gear! But no!)
-sat in a cigar bar just to down a drink before going clubbing and was given hors d'oevres that were compliments of the chef...for reasons I don't know
-cried so much my face looked like that of a fat chinese kid at work the next morning
-enjoyed Rihanna's 'Rude Boy' too much for my (and anyone's) own good
-got called Rihanna AGAIN on the street
-finally saw one of those new rare pink ladies' only taxis driving around
-finally fessed up to the office that I was born in 1989
-had chats like this in the office due to lackadaisical last-day-of-the-week behaviour:

Editor: Right, does anyone care to take a needle in the arm for me this afternoon?
Me: depends on what's in it

A WHOLE LOT MORE THAN A PARTY

It's been a crazy weekend; like so crazy, I am trying to recall what I did Friday and it's completely vanished from my mind. But Saturday, I went traipsing up and down Los Angeles because I went to check out a dungeon in North Hollywood for my article research, and it turned out Jay Wiseman was there teaching a really cool class in Tight Immobilizing Bondage. He is like THE go-to guy when it comes to BDSM 101. He's written a myriad of key BDSM references including SM101 and The Loving Dominant, and I've reviewed the latter (dude's got all that kinky shit down to a science). So it was an insightful workshop for a master rigger wannabe like myself.

After that we went to Fetish Nation at Circus, which was pretty neat. I suppose it would be the LA equivalent of Torture Garden or Subversion in London. To sum up, pretty interesting performances and pretty extravagant garb, but pretty exorbitantly priced drinks. One of the girls being spanked over a domina's knees had my f-hole tattoos on her back. Mine are way better though.

Then Sunday, the boyf and I met up with Dulce, our Italian friend who is now here for a coulple years studying whatever she feels like because she has nothing better to do. We went to Bossa Nova for some pretty decent, filling Brazilian food and racked up an $80+ bill among the 3 of us. I would recommend it despite that though because service was toppa top, the sangria hit the spot, the portions were so huge as to provide you with meals the following day (about to eat some for dinner), and sitting outside chilling with good people on an easy Sunday evening is just the ticket sometimes.

Then today was just mad emailing and liaising trying to make sure that every minute of this week keeps me huffing and puffing until the end of the day. Craziness. Most of the shit happening this week is for the article or for friends I need to see before October 2nd when I fly out, but this?
I'll be going to for fun.

LET'S DO SOMETHING STUPID

mmeeehhhhhhh....death take meeee. Worked last night. Don't drink and review. And more importantly, if you're planning a quick in and out operation because you look like shit and don't feel like going out, don't offer to do a review of a bar where your friend is manager.

Slug and Lettuce in Fulham is shit full stop
Suburban in Fulham does really good cocktails. I had a Tiramisu martini, bitch! When you go there, give my friend Tony with the nice curly black hair a hug and say I said hi. Take good care of him. Does anyone want my job? I'm sending in my notice this week.

Still pissing flourescent, still sitting in halls, still watching Weeds. Was supposed to be interviewing some graffiti artists today but they cancelled because they had the flu and I'm glad they informed me because we don't know what kind of flu they be talkin' bout. Mistress Ivy just texted me. She booked her ticket! Abu Dhabi better strap on its combat boots. Oh June, you smell so lush. I hate that word 'lush' that you british people say.

THE ONLY DAY OF THE YEAR THAT WOULD MAKE YOU A POSSIBILITY

Gufram's Dark Lady Sofa. I'm pretty sure I've seen it before but either way I stumbled upon it again while flipping through an old mag, recovering from a night of excess Echo Falls with the girls at Beck's mom's 'pad' near Bond Street. I'm not sure I would actually want this for my home though...but I just had to post something, didn't I? I haven't seen you since Friday!

SO YEAH! IT'S ME! I'M BACK!

Okay so...finally, April's gonna fuck itself. That was THE most harrowing month all fucking year for me. I sit here as ruffled truth that it is possible to do 936.666 hours of work in a month. but allow me to add a couple more onto that as it ain't fuckin' over yet. My last major university deadline EVER is due tomorrow, and of course much bacchanal must be had afterward, so ruffled, blogging, and late spring cleaning I might be, but a research portfolio, three chapters of a novel, a covering letter to a publishing house, a synopsis, chapter and character breakdown and a 2,500 word essay must appear before me by then.

In other news, yesterday was my last day at the magazine I was interning at. I had such a great two months there, and never even felt the need to call in sick out of sheer boredom of the day's tasks ahead, as previously done with other magazines (truth hurts). I also took away a new friend, amazing contacts, a couple of freebies here and there from reviewing stuff and attending press events, a pretty card signed by everyone including people who didn't even know my name, a box of Green and Black's organic chocolate, some cash and orchids. They told me the flowers will last up to two months. Not in my company, they won't. But it's nice. I've only ever gotten flowers once before this from my boyfriend. The cash has immediately gone towards my California summer and sits in full-on lotus pose in my savings account. However, when I got home and sat gobbling a fat pasta salad while pressing my hair before heading to the Black Knave/Drama magazine party, I got that much-awaited email from Dazed and Confused, asking me if I could start tomorrow for a week. I had to decline due to this academic business, but am now on file for future freelance positions; along with everybody else who was lined up outside the mag party, I bet.

We didn't end up staying at the party though. After Fi and I took turns crossing the street to the nearest pub to down shots or collect Coronas, waiting in line for more than 30 mins. seemed beneath us so we met Becks in Bond Street and got wasted at her mom's abandoned flat, grateful that we were no longer in the presence of pretentious company sporting half shaved heads, and people who befriended us and then sprinted off to lick the soles of the magazine's cohorts leaving us stranded in line. I REMEMBER WHAT YOU LOOK LIKE, which, in itself, is sad. Fi ran into a friend who worked for the London Paper on the celebrity buzz. She was heading off because the paps told her there was no one of note inside. So obviously, we weren't in there.

After much discussion on Beck's naked photoshoots (and other bodily matters including breast cancer via deoderant and whether sleeping sans underwear was the most obvious option), possible outfit ideas for the next Hoodoo Voodoo, mapping out plans to form an unstoppable coalition of 3 and host party nights, yard/car boot sales and form our own magazine, all this and more with a backdrop of Siouxsie and the Banshees radio (which I am pleased to know made Fi sway like an emphatic church worshipper about to be touched by the holy ghost, because I suggested it), we went to bed with plans to breakfast in the neighbouring pleasantries of the oxford street area the next day, which we shabbily did. We plan to try it again, but with better clothes and bigger wallets, at Selfridges some time this month.

As for now, my laundry needs transferring before the unwashed miscreants on campus get a hold of it and dump it to the side. After that, word counts, bibliographies, citations, pristine grammar et al. Tomorrow I'm getting more 'fuck me' pills to last me through the summer! Then handing in my work, easing myself into an evening of inebriation with le Vampyre, dropping in for a mexican dinner for my friend's birthday, then rushing back home to shove my breasts into my flourescent green bikini top because this week's sorry excuse for a college party's theme is 'Life's a Beach!' (well that was what I may have called it- it's actually simply 'Beach Party' - that should give you the general idea...). Is this good enough for a comeback post?

BOOK OF DAYS

So some guy messaged me on Facebook and is like 'New blog post please!' Well, hmph!

Well my boss was kind enough to hand over some press passes to some fashion events this week because she noticed I'm one of the only few people in the office to make more than just an effort in the morning (also I told her I needed to split by the end of the month) so Tuesday was spent trying to calm my upchuck reflexes while sitting front row of Alternative Fashion Week at Spitalfields. No offense to the student designers, but you've really gone and hit a new world record in vilifying the name of fashion. Okay, so offense. But I feel it better to let you know that now, rather than later, is a great time to drop the bolts of fabric, spit the pins from your mouth, and see if it's not too late to apply for a degree in....accounting or something for the 2009-2010 academic year. It actually may have hurt my heart (and the hearts of most present, minus those whistling at their trashy friends 'modelling') less if you had indulged in a shopping spree at Primark, then signed your initials in glitter/faeces/blood/hard bowtie pasta at the bottom of each piece. Sorry, really, sorry. I know, if someone slagged me that bad about my writing, I might feel entitled to hang my bare ass out of my window and deliver a big dirty baby on their foreheads as they passed by on their lunch break to Noodle King. But people who tell the truth are your best friends.

And then when I got home at 4, my boss is like 'I don't wanna miss the football match tonight. Anyone wanna take up a last minute review gig for an exclusive club in Mayfair? You'll get free entry for you and friend, free drinks and regular pay'. Of course, the catch is that it's due on Thursday morning. I'm tired as fuck, but life is a hustle and I could do with a drink. I call Becks and it doesn't take long to get her to accept, even though she's been rotting in the library all evening. She meets me in Mayfair, heavy laptop bag and all and the cousins do Mayfair. It was fun, but had to leave after 2 hours because I had work the next day, which was representing the mag at this Ethical Fashion Press Event in Covent Garden - smile, say a bunch of 'wow!'s and 'oh really?'s, accept cards, give cards, give magazines, thank profusely, accept goodie bag, rifle around in goodie bag on tube and be pleased - that sort of thing.

And when I got home from that (because I am getting this odd adrenaline rush from working too much) I decided to go review another bar in the area. I ate dinner there with a few glasses of wine while I made notes on the place, and watched on as Quiz Night took place. I love this pub! There's like nothing wrong with it. I had the simplest vegetarian dish, and they made my mushrooms taste like...fuckin' bacon. No, they tasted like.. a reason to order another one, with one on the side in a bag to take away. I didn't do that though, to my own chagrin. When the review's up I'll link you to it.

So that's been the story. I'm not in the office on Thursdays so today I just caught up on my Developing the Novel coursework portfolio, due next week Friday. Tomorrow's another work day.

Oh, and if you see me before it hits, ABSOLUTELY DO NOT ASK ME IF I AM ATTENDING THE CAMDEN CRAWL!!!

SO SURE

Bitches, this shit is up! Best interview I've ever done. Jesse is such a pleasure to talk to and is totally my kinda babe. Oh, I forgot to tell you that I write there now, huh? Well, there ya go.

MAYBE I'M A POOR GIRL, DOESN'T BOTHER ME AT ALL

YESSS!!!!!

The Selby Show at colette will be up from March 30th until May 2nd 2009.
It will include paintings, photos and written interviews with people form around the world including
los angeles, new york, mexico, london, sydney and paris.

The Selby Paris book is being produced for colette and will be released April 2009 at the opening of The Selby Paris show.
It includes watercolor paintings and photographs of all the people that were photographed in Paris for the show, many of which have not been seen on The Selby website.
This book is limited to 250 copies. The spines of each book are hand painted red white and blue. All the books are signed and numbered by The Selby.

The world premiere of The Selby's first film will also occur at this show, it is entitled Down Under Book Porn.
It will be released at a later date on The Selby Store.

The Selby Store Pop Up Shop at colette will feature clothing, artwork, books, objects and prized possessions for sale from many of the people that have appeared on The Selby website.


Paris photo shoots co-curated and produced by superstar Natacha Polaert for Nouvelle Garde LLC.

Big Thank You:

sarah and the team at colette
book designer Brian Paul Lamotte
Belvedere Vodka

------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I cannot get over the bone furniture at that store!

Anyway, like I said, I OD'd on Kesh this morning and hit the pillow at 7am. One of my many daily alarms woke me up at noon to take my pill (the pill). Promptly KO'd again. Set another alarm for 3pm because I decided to check Tim the Skin Two editor today. He had just come back from San Jose, CA and was ready to get back to work. So we dug around in a box and I picked out some books and DVD's I wanted to do some reviews on. I haven't written for them the whole of March because I had to decide what my priorities were and I had a massive final year uni deadline at the end of that month, so I cut back on some of my writing gigs. I did break away for one night though to attend the Skin Two Yearbook launch for a couple hours with Mistress Ivy. And today, I stumbled across my ugly ass self on the internet from that event. I won't even elaborate on that because there is no way in hell I'm linking it. But anyway, glad to be back in the fetish swing of things. I took home like 7 books.

Tim brought me up to speed on the latest, invited me to some fetish parties, and said the San Francisco Fetish Ball stopped running this year because the couple that ran it split recently and moved to two separate boring cities in an attempt to do I don't fucking know what (Miami and Texas). So Tim and his gang might take over that yearly event. Would be cool as I hopefully should be part of the Cali massive by then and maybe we'll be working together again later down the line. He took off his baseball cap to show me his recently dyed hair and explained to me that it somehow became a tradition that every March he would dye his hair in San Francisco. And he doesn't do it anywhere else. Okay... He looks cute though.

When I came home 'Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas' was at the reception waiting for me. Yeah, I know, you're rolling your eyes and you're all like 'hasn't that drug lit trend died and buried itself by now? Jesus, where the fuck have you been?' But yeah, I don't know where the fuck I HAVE been and now I'm trying to catch up and see what all the fucking hype was about. I like the Beats generation guys so I'm exploring alla dat shit whenever I have the fucking time to sit in bed and read, which is this weekend.

I thought I would've been at some bar tonight being pampered and stuffed silly with free stuff by its manager, but my boss informed me that that review has been moved to next week Friday, so here I am...just pestered Becks to do something tomorrow. I was looking at this...but I have no idea what it is! Anyone think it's gonna be any good? They haven't even given you a whiff of what to expect on the sound systems (or maybe that's just me being out of the loop and I should already know).

Oh yeah, this is another thing along with the drug lit trend that I have barely dabbled in; this whole East London party scene. This whole obsession with Shoreditch kinda gets on my nerves...but it seems since I work thereabouts 3 days a week, I've been feeling out the area, I mean why not, leaving the country in June, so let's have it.

Okay, nevermind. For some reason, Becks wants to make me third wheel with her boyf and hang out in Kingston because trains are shit tomorrow. I completely forgot about this whole Easter thing. I come from a catholic family and way back when, it used to be a big affair for us - church, painting eggs, chocolate, gifts from mum, the works. But one day, I just said 'Okay, I'm out' so I haven't really been behind Jesus since then, so I'm out of the loop when it comes to his parties too! God, I'm out of the loop with everything! Should I just stop now? Okay.

Listening to this today:

MY EYES ARE DOING SOMERSAULTS

You can't tell me this shit doesn't look amazing! (click the picky for details and awesome sexy wexy music and pics).

Okay, so I lied. I said this next post would be some awesome scans from War, Plastique and i-D. Toughen up. Will post some other time.

I changed my layout and I haven't been around. Is this layout cooler or should I take a step back?

Real busy as per usual, writing up reviews on punk bars in Kingston and essays on why the novel is or isn't dead, according to V.S. Naipaul.

Harper's also just emailed me and said they will keep my CV on file for a while.

I really wanna go to that party...Becks and Fi better not fail me.

Slow as ever, I'm crawling through and saving tons of uber fashion images from style.com of the Fall RTW '09 variety. Gonna make a killer fashion comeback on here with them in a hot fuckin' minute.

Le Vampyre had a 2 for 1 ticket for the cinema so he took me to see Watchmen (BLUE PENIS!!!) and I had a really good time despite the blood-crawling rendition of Hallelujah (which I was told was the original by my cousin who looked at me in dismay for not knowing that- sorry, but Jeff Buckley topped it) played while the two lesser superheros fucked (four eyes and Megan Fox wannabe/neverbe). Ugh. Makes me shiver all over again. Was going to get Panda the graphic novel for his birthday in July but he said he read it in one standing at his local store when he was younger. Poo. He says I can still get it but where's the fun in that? My present giving history for this guy is so shitty it's not funny.

So it's been reported that my ex made it out of Trinidad and Tobago alive this past week because his status has changed on Facebook since. He says I forgot to tell him he would be bitten alive by mosquitoes. Well, love, you decided to sleep in a car for a week. But glad he had only good news after that and got his scuba on.

Went to Wagamama today for proper nourishment (the kind where my hands are not involved) to try to wrench myself from the grip of a vicious headache. They do amazing hot chocolate now, so I had that with my Amai Udon and just stared out the window, looking back at all the people on the double decker buses blatantly watching me eat. I started reading the first sentence of this book I'm citing in my essay called 'A History of Reading'. My brain started complaining so I closed it and put it away. My favourite waitress there and I were both having shitty days so she gave me some free green tea (Yeah, I know it's free in the US regardless- shut up) and I gave her a good tip.

I'm attempting to give my hair an interesting curly look but I don't have curlers and I don't feel like frying its luscious life away with my GHD straightener tonight so I rolled it with some felt tip markers. Looks kinda funky. Red, Purple, Yellow, Orange and Green.

After the movie, Le Vampyre and I went to the Belfry (uni bar) and got our faces painted with 4 leaf clovers by my Burmese friend. We played balloon volleyball next to the speakers while my bouncer/yoga teacher friend looked on amused. The Norweigan asked me if my boyfriend and I broke up yet and told me to come see his band play in Camden this Thursday. I told him to find me on facebook and try to persuade me from there. He doesn't know my name. A bunch of us drank £1 pints of Carling and baby guinness shots (kahlua with a film of Bailey's on top- cutest thing ever!?). Then The Vegan and I attempted to watch Ichi the Killer back at Le Vampyre's, with cups of microwaveable noodles and rose wine but we didn't finish and scheduled it for another night; some time after the gruelling days ahead that lead to hand-in of our third year specifics - March 31st. I had a bus pass so instead of walking the 15 minutes home around 2, I favoured laziness and waited. Then the Indian Italian showed up in his red Honda Civic with white stripes, made a U-Turn and gave me a ride back to my campus, where he too lives. He had just come from a strip club with friends. They got a deal with Jaguar and are now rolling in £10,000 a month each so he spent the night throwing money at the strippers. He doesn't drink. He was high as a kite though.

After that, I came home and cooked tuna steak and ate it and went to bed. I woke up at some ridiculous time before 7am and talked to Sebastian and Panda online. Panda and I had a really pleasant conversation this time, which is sort of a first for us these days. Film critiquing, hair loss, the pros and cons of eating sushi off of Megan Fox, witty banter et al. I really liked it. And Sebastian sent me some solo tracks he's working on, and I really dug them. I'm hoping he and Panda can get together and make music videos as they're both in L.A. and Panda's working more and more directing some himself. I love being around on set when he's directing, watching him concentrate on lighting and directing people around, and I like watching his focus as he studies what's on the camera. I had fun on my first trip out to see him running alongside this kid with a bounce card. They were filming him running.

I forgot to mention that I really liked the first Skin Two Yearbook that was launched this month. I loved the editorial by Silent View, and have been meaning to post about it on here, to no avail of course. And I am thinking that if I do manage to move out to Cali this year, I'll apply to be their freelance California correspondent. Everyone knows the scene's big as shit in SF, so stoked about that. Still looking forward to the launch party next week even though I'm sure my friend Mistress Ivy is gonna bail on me at the last minute and it'll be me alone in a PVC skirt gargling too many glasses of wine. I would also love to attend the launch night of Club Crimson in April. (ON ANOTHER NOTE: I see that a review of mine was posted recently on this book I really enjoyed; it's one of my favourites actually...in books in general; not just in the category of erotica- the guy's good and I hope I can somehow sometime cross paths with him when I'm in SF).

This post is disgustingly long. I hope I'm now exempt of all charges for blog abandonment.

JUST WHATEVER PT. 2

Today's a sunny day. Well done, well done. So I have to take advantage of it, not just by taking pictures of oddities in my room, but by actually doing the whole outdoor tra-la-la: walking around with camera, sunglasses, iced Starbucks drink, double decker buses; yup yup. I have a lot of shit to do today though.

It's good to see Kill City in all these rad places (not that I know who the fuck Whitney Port is - and please, don't tell me). Above is me wearing the stained pewter skinnies they sent me. Wearing these I know it's gonna be a good day.

Heading here tonight with a vampire. Not just to review it, but for the live acts as well - whoever they are, I don't care; it's a punk bar and they came all the way from the US for this shit, so fuck it, let's hear it. Haven't been to a small gig in centuries. Come along and say hi! I'm wearing plaid. Okay, that sure as fuck won't set me apart. Better one: I'm black. Oh, and buy me a drink...

Damn, this looks good though too:

I never get tagged to do these shits but as we're bloggers, we like talking about ourselves, hence I'll do it anyway. Our generation is walking around with mirrors in their back pockets.

3 random things about me:
1- I like picking the scabs off recent cuts (likethisoneonmyindexfingerthatjustwon'tfuckingbudge!!!)
2- I read Stephenie Meyer's latest cult vampire books but if I feel the urge to do it in public, I take off the covers
3- I'm thinking I should remove the link to this blog from my Facebook page as so many goddamned relatives keep adding me


P.S. The next post is gonna be some awesome scans from some mags I just bought: War (free), Plastique and i-D