I'm sorry

Today I almost wore my flip flops to school but changed to my docs at the last minute.
This took me an extra two more minutes to get out of the house because I had to retie the lace on one of my docs cause it had come undone when I had carelessly pulled it off the last time I wore it. Because I wore docs I missed what would've been the perfect timing at the lights and therefore I had to run across the street when the red man was flashing which pissed of the road-raging driver who had to slow down and honk at me as I furrowed my eyebrows together in an unusual form of apology and because the driver had to honk me he took his hand of the coffee cup which he was about to pick up and accidently loosened the disposable cup lid a little bit which he did not realize until he grabbed it when he stepped out of his car at his work's car park and so a bit of coffee splashed on his white shirt which forced him to detour to the restroom on the way to his office which is really just a cubicle so he could splash water on it and try and scrub it out and because he stopped at the restroom he didn't make it to his desk in time to answer a phone call from the one client who was angered by his accountants apparent laziness and decided to splurge on a quarter pounder with cheese for lunch in an attempt to cheer himself up and when he paid for his Maccas on his EFTPOS card which he shared with his wife it decreased the total amount in their shared everyday banking account and so when the wife went to do groceries the next day she couldn't pay for everything in her trolley and had to remove that expensive bottle of wine that she was planning to open that weekend as both the kids were away and she was hoping that this night alone with her husband would rekindle their dwindling relationship which had become full of silence and guilt since she had discovered the reciept for a gold necklace in her husband's suit pants a year ago and had been forever since been hopefully waiting for him to give to her and for her suspiscions to be proved wrong and because she did not buy this bottle of wine she didn't bother to stop him when he told her later that night that he had a weekend conference in Ohio to attend and because she didn't stop him he went to Ohio and made love to the mistress who called in sick to her mundane, meaningless job as a receptionist in a hotel and the manager of the hotel couldn't find a replacement so instead allowed the doorman to alternate between both of his duties during his 8 hour shift and because the doorman was so preoccupied with his unusually excessive amount of responsibilities he failed to notice the young child who wandered outside to play with a dog sitting on the corner because the doorman was helping this young child's mother with her bags and because the doorman didn't notice and stop the young child from walking outside the young child walked outside to pat the dog and the dog was frightened by this child and started to run away and so the child quickly followed and chased the dog onto the street in direct line of the oncoming car who tried to brake but the child was too close so nothing could stop the car from crushing the child's lungs,
Just like nothing could stop the child from dying,
Just like nothing could've stopped me from choosing my docs this morning.

I heard the door open when I was sitting in the shower. The tub curved either side of my knees, which were tucked into myself, providing a rest for my chin, and water cascaded down my spine and through the tangles of my hair. She sat down next to me, unknowingly mimicking my position on the cold bathroom tiles. The sheer curtain provided a barrier between us, yet the type of material allowed the soft outline of her shape to be visible, tricking me into thinking that she was actually just my shadow, and I was just imagining her presence. I traced the blemishes on my arms as listened to the silence that we were creating. The constant rhythm of water drumming into my body remained consistant as our creation echoed through the warm, thick air. Our words had always been meaningless, as our similarities provided us with a minimalistic need for sentences, so we concluded far earlier than this moment that they were worthless. Two peas, one in a pod, one not. We weren't alone, yet our lack of need to stimulate any sense of companionship confirmed our inability to ever escape ourselves. "Stop kidding yourself," she spoke aloud, her sharp pitch piercing the droplets on my skin, red raw with heat. I smiled, reached up, and turned off the shower.

I can no longer find inspiration for my ramblings. Nobody reads this, nobody reads me, but regardless, I want to read myself. What's changed?

Tiny Threads of Colour

From the ages of five until about ten, I used to have such difficulty falling asleep.
For me, there are two different variations of closing your eyes. There is the natural "When I close my eyelids my eyes roll into the back of my head so if you had xray vision I would be looking up right now" sort of style, and then there is the awkward "I'm just pretending to close my eyes so if it wasn't for this barrier of skin they'd be staring straight at you". When you sleep, or fall asleep, you should be in the comfortable 'natural' style. However, as a child, I was somehow so unco-ordinated that I found this task extremely difficult.

At the time, it felt I'm adopt the awkward style for hours every night, but looking back and calculating the typical kid habit of turning everything into hyperboles, it was probably only about half an hour.

So here I am, this tiny kid with stick thin legs longer than a grown man's stride, attempting to copy this seemingly simple task of falling asleep. With awkward style eyes, you kinda get the feeling that you're staring smack bang at a pitch black wall. This was too much black for my eyes, and I would feel confronted by this solid block of black that seemed to engulf my existance. So somehow, my body developed a mechanism to deal with this. My eyes, or my brain, or even my imagination, distorted this wall of darkness by filling it with colours. Tiny little colours; about the size and width of one of the fragments you get when you pull apart a piece of thread. Bright reds, purples, oranges, blues, green. Very very bright colours would travel across my backdrop, kind of like when you watch bacteria through a microscope. They would travel at different speeds and at different angles, occasionally moving straight through each other. They were slightly distorted, and had that kind of fuzz about them; kind of like the view you imagine people with bad eyesight to see.

When all this happened, all effort of falling asleep would be lost. At times I used to think they were somehow connected to fairies and loved this secret connection. But most of the time It used to frustrate the hell out of me. It would get so bad that I would continue to see these tiny colourful worms when I opened my eyes as well. This idea of never being able to escape these threads of colour would frighten me out of any potential sleep.

Even now, if I close my eyes 'awkward style' and concentrate really hard, very few of these threads appear in my vision. They are nowhere near as bright as my younger experiences, and I'm pretty positive that is not the typical tendancy to hyperbolize jumping in. I wonder what they actually were; maybe just a weird coping mechanism my brain developed during that horrid stage between wake and sleep. Regardless, they were pretty cool. That being said, I am very grateful I have now mastered the 'natural' eye closing style and can fall asleep like a normal person.

Can't make up my mind whether or not this little procedure of mine will ever stop
I mean, I'm like a fucking swan who bends it's head down and breaks the water. But when the purpose of that action is fulfilled it simply changes back to above-water-mode.
The difference between me and the swan is that I'm not welcomed back. (I ain't no fucking bird)

Don't judge a book by it's cover
Don't judge a person by her penis

It's
the
person
inside
that
counts

"I fell in love with his cock, not him"

I think
everyone is gender-blind
yet the pressures of conformity
and the fact that the majority of the population is heterosexual
manipulates people into believing they're as straight as a broom

Those who identify as gay
are simply imprisoned on the other side of the fence
"I'm not a circle, hence I must be a square"

If I was exactly the same
but had a P instead of a V
would anything be different?

Ducks

Insanity
something dictated
from only the sane
from only the ones
who observe

Whose to say
how mad
I really am?

You?

You're the one
who spent ages
analysing the minds
similar to mine

Hunched over
those thick encyclopedias
memorizing your lists of symptoms
like toy soldiers
or ducks in their
neat little rows

But I am not a duck
And I refuse
to stand in your row

Maybe you say
"you're insane"
and the irony
overwhelms me
with relief

Or

Maybe you say
that I am normal
as normal as one can be
I'm just being
dramatic

my problems are minor
excusable

But I can feel this insanity
I can hear it
creeping up on me

I’ll just keep it
rely on it
here under the surface
while you muse
over your sanity
and the sanity
of those around you

Thankyou for curing me
I feel
much better
now knowing that I'm a duck

Unusual feelings of reassurance arise when I can not-so-proudly say that everything is going un-right in my life.
Rock bottom means nothing more can go wrong.
Typical teen angst, Rephrased: rock bottom is merely three feet below the surface. Neverless- at this point, one more notch in the ol' belt seems much easier to handle when there are already a few dozen punching through.
Rock bottom becomes my safety net; I get aquainted with the consistency of it all.
The bottom of the rock is surprisingly lighter than common sense makes it out to be.

Whenever I'm by myself (#or with Buzz), I am constantly overwhelemed by the concept of the infinite. The expansiveness of everything - thoughts, ideas, space, light, matter - gives me this feeling of having a void in the middle of my chest while simultaneously feeling hopeful. Inexplainable, even to myself.

Sometimes I try to picture the end of space. I imagine the limit of the world, then the limit of the galaxy, and then I keep going;
         each limit in my mind giving way giving way giving way until I achieve a type of weird vertigo.
            an intangible mantra - orgasm of the mind.

When you say words, I see colours

My second post about what lies deep in my psyche. (click here for first) 

Involuntary like tourette's (bu a gay, rainbow, unicorn edition), my condition makes my day brighter. Every sentence said to me feels* like an acid trip.
* I say feel because I do not necessarily see the colours right before my eyes. More like a presence, like the eyes of a stranger staring at the back of my head.

Anesthesia: no sensation.
Synesthesia: joined sensation. A very close and quick overlap between a sequence of two or more representational systems such as “see/feel” (feelings overlap with what is seen).

Although with this syndrome comes a slight obsessive compulsive disorder. If a word does not have a colour, I begin to feel threatened and vulnerable. My brain cannot comprehend it; the word naked and isolated. I am mentally driven to dress this word with something that will suit it perfectly. Only then can I move on with my daily activities.

When I was younger I used to match my Sims names with their outfits. Penelope, the model, would always wear pink. Martha and Theo, politicans, would only be seen in blue. Building blocks with the alphabet on them? Never matched up to the corresponding colour and hence became the stimulus of many, many tantrums.

You have colour, I have a colour. Everything has colour, and will provide me with constant entertainment throughout my life.

Read more here - Wikipedia forever, bitches.

Buzz

"Triumps" in the world of flatting.

Dear slightly younger me,

You're about to start living independently, congrats! It all sounds very thrilling, I know. You're (finally) in charge - all these wonderful responsibility laid upon you - and you have this exciting new challenge of taking control of your life. You're almost shaking with excitement, you can't wait to live alone.

What you don't know is that the reality of living alone is a lot (a lot) different from your current idea of independency. Your opinion of success will alter dramatically. To help you - me - us - out, I've complied an 10-fold, easy to follow guide of what will become "triumphs" in the world of flatting:

1. When you get through a whole week without having the same dinner three nights in a row.

2. When you actually have a clean pair of knickers in your drawer (and don't have to wear bikini bottoms).

3. When your washing comes out of the machine the same colour it was when it went in.

4. When your washing comes out of the dryer the same size it was when it went in.

5. When you bought the perfect amount of weekly groceries: enough that you are able to construct a meal on the Saturday with more than just condensed milk and baking powder, but not too much that you have floppy carrots sulking in your fridge's vege bin (a month after you bought them).

6. When the recipe says "2 tsps of diced tangy ginger spice" and you actually find diced tangy ginger spice in your pantry.

7. When guests come over and you have enough glasses that everyone can have a drink.

8. When guests come over and the living room is clear of underwear and/or dirty dinner plates from a few days back.

9. When you actually put away your clean washing, rather than just fishing the specific clothes out of the dryer when needed.

and 10. When you are actually telling the truth to your mother on the phone when you say that you vaccuumed yesterday/just did the dishes/my bed is already made.

Good luck, mini me. I hope my time machine works.

Love, Ophelia

Blind.

I was sitting alone, in a carriage built for over a dozen passengers, when he walks in. Tall, slim, handsome, clean cut, defined. Mid-twenties, maybe? Oh, and blind.
He was well dressed; dark blue jeans with a charcoal button down shirt, carrying a briefcase and wearing big, dark shades. Easily mistaken for "normal" sunsafe citizen, only broken by the woman wrapped around his arm, quite obviously steering him in the direction of a seat. He looked good and I wondered which one of us got dressed in the dark this morning.

Him and his partner? friend? companion? continue their witty banter as the train begins to move. She talks about some movie she wants to see and her friend who helped produce it, he grins intermittedly and occasionally puts in his two cents worth.

I want to talk to him. I am as curious as George (#curious george): Were you born like this, or was it sprung on you in a freak accident? Most importantly, what do you see? Is it black, is it.. nothing? (#can nothing be colourless?) How do you dream? Maybe every morning he resents waking up, knowing he is leaving the only place that he can encounter all five senses. Does he miss it?

I'm almost jealous of him, talking to this gorgeous woman, oblivious to all but her. Eyesight is a gift, true, but the shallowness it brings is a curse. Sure, "love is blind", but it's not. As much as we'd like to be blind to all but personality, what we see is far too blunt. We can't step past that ugly haircut/look at the nose/my god she has four chins/why must he wear that fluro lycra to every date. We prejudge people we could love, and it sucks shit.

The blind man laughs at something the woman says, and he pulls me out of my thoughts. I can't help but think that he's seen a lot more in people that I will ever be able to.

Ophelia

Youth.

Every moment, a funeral.
Our 'old' selves passing away.
Ephemerel youth.
Springtime for death.

The Alcatraz: conformity.

Conformity (#very cool word phonetically) is a very hard concept to grasp:
1. to act in accord with the prevailing standards, attitudes, practices, etc., of society or a group
2. to act in accordance or harmony; comply (usually followed by to )

Every earthling conforms - driven by our survival instinct. We conform to live. We comply with "the norm" and live our lives within these guidelines to avoid becoming a target for bullying, criticism, exlusion. This goes without saying.

Except, nowadays, conformity is no longer the norm. Non-conformity has become the hip thing the cool kids are up to. Hence, the majority of us are now conforming to the idea of non-conformity.

Confused? I'll conform to you, "Me too."

Ophelia

Boredom of Buzz.

A short story I wrote when I was approx. 6

Penguin!!!!!


One day I woke up and ther was 
a penguin doing a dance on
my bed.
I called "MUM! DAD! when
mum and dad came in the
penguin was gone


A reflection of how I have grown up. Imaginative with poor writing skills. 


Buzz

My final thoughts before the blessed oblivion.

My toes are cold thank goodness I made a hot water bottle I like hot water bottles they remind me of home I want to go home I am really homesick I don't think mum realizes how homesick I am I wonder why they call it being homesick cause it's not like I'm sick of my home it's actually the opposite I don't want to go to school tomorrow Ow random finger cramp that was weird Why the fuck do I notice finger cramp when I have back pain constantly I don't think my back is ever going to get better and then I have just wasted all of my life I wonder what it's like to date a girl I wonder what kind of guy I'd be like I should plait my hair before I fall asleep or else it will get knotty I hate my hair so much I wish I had Leah's hair cause she's got such nice hair maybe I should shave my head or get dreadlocks that would be cool if I quit ballet I'd shave my head and be a total hippy that's a cool idea My finger is still actually cramping it's my pinky finger which is odd I wish I was pretty and skinny I wonder what it's like to swim in the arctic I wonder if parts of your body would actually get ice around them cause it would be that cold I should try and do that whole lucid dreaming thing again that would be the best I would have the best times in my dream I love dreams I wish I could record dreams or actually live in my dreams cause even when bad shit happens in my dream It's so much less stressful I'm not sure why but it is I wonder if my personality is the same in my dreams or if it's like my brain promoting and idolizing myself so that's why I like dreams more cause I'm actually a better person in my dreams cause my brain deletes all my flaws when I'm asleep that's a cool concept I should write about that sometime I wonder what time it is Why can't I fall asleep I wonder what humans will look like in a billion years I wonder if we'll develop some really weird body part or trait like the ability to hibernate or maybe we'll get fins to swim cause if global warming is melting everything we need a way to move around maybe we'll be able to breathe underwater too and can then ultimately live underwater I wonder what the center of the earth is like I remember once on that magic school bus tv show they went to the center of the earth and I was really jealous of the students even though I knew they were fake and then that time they went into a human body how weird would that be having a tiny bus inside your body..


Ophelia

Two Halfs

The world is set in pairs;
                                        Ying Yang
                                        Good Evil
                                        Husband Wife
                                        X chromosome Y chromosome
                                        

Usually obsessively opposed to the typical*,  I have a grave fear of ending up alone.
Constantly worried that what I do now, in my youth - the decisions I make, the actions I commit - will have a dire impact on
who I will be
where I will be,
thus possibly impacting
who I will meet in the future.

Consistantly exposed to sappy love songs on the radio, I'm brainwashed into believing that
"being by yourself is a path only the sad people live."
(OPHELIA AGREES WITH THIS. FUCK YOU, RADIO)

Growing old, living old. Growing alone;
the part of solitude that nobody bothers to mention.
                                                      No partner
                                                      No love
                                                      No hope
                                                      Only cats


Even though the world's system and existance is based on pairs - my someone and I will, ironically, be one. Two as a single unit: living, loving, being together.

I have no fucking clue why I am afraid.

Buzz


*Wise words from Lady GaGa

SLAVE \ РАБ - Aleksej Tarutz

Part1

Part2

Waiting for the doctor

People talk to me,
far too quickly for my own liking.
I agree,
nod,
and smile,
simply because I lack the time to form the perfect response.

What makes me,
me,
disappears in a desperate attempt
to be recognized as 
an individual. 

How ironic -
Panicked by the pause
between statement and rebuttal,
I nod,
and sacrifice thinking 
for false individuality.

I've decided
I'm going to be myself 
for now.

27th Post.

Consumed by
laziness? Wanderlust? The feeling that I'm becoming normal, plain, mundane?
Whatever it is, I cannot concentrate on anything else.
Unable to assign and complete any tasks,
I'm instead consumed by the overwhelming compulsion
to write.

The words I put down seem irrevelant.
No goals in mind,
no purpose,
no intention.
Just writing for an unexplainable,
yet excellent, feeling.

These ramblings seem pointless,
but actually reveal
disguised emotions that can't be expressed elsewhere:
only here can I expose them,
without them being tainted with greed, denial,
or doubt.

For these few minutes in which I type,
my ache of uncertainty is dulled.
The release reminds me of feelings I'm yet to experience;
sex, love, death, drugs.

Too many secrets cause
too many lies.
I can forget these secrets when I write.
Nay, I can accept these secrets when
I write.

Ophelia

"Among great giants, nothing but grains of sand"

Wasting time while wasting away...

The easiest way to explain it, my brain hates being restless. Just like the high you get after stepping off the cross trainer forty five minutes later, my brain is addicted to the surge of goodness it recieves when I work it hard.

I call it strength training: Pushing my brain boundaries, trying to think beyond my norm. None of that "If a tree falls and nobody hears it, did it really make a sound?" bullshit - that stuff is purely personal opinion. There is no sure answer, and I dislike that = I crave evidence. I want to dive into the hard yards; What's at the end of the universe? Et cetera, et cetera. Stuff that us earthlings will never know, but we'll most likely spend a huge amount of our existance attempting to either ignore (superficial bitches) or answer (brainy geniuses).

I can't figure out if I'm stupid for craving such thinking.
I know I will never discover the answer, so why over-analyse and expand these thoughts?
OR Why prevent mental growth purely because there is no productive result?

Am I wasting time thinking, or am I wasting time not thinking?

Ophelia

Baby name wizard #1

Pluto Exon Ophelia Antonia Ruby Tuesday Xander James (for a girl) River Micah Casper Indiana

Persephone per-SEHF-ə-nee Sephy
Greek goddess of generation and death / personification of spring
Queen of the underworld / daughter of Zeus / in the movie WONDER WOMAN

Ophelia

Nowadays, the simplest of things are taken for granted.

I found joy in the most simplest. Shadows. I'm a new age Peter Pan: I am forever entertained by the entertainment my shadow brings. My shadow has become my new security blanket. 

Friends and family can come and go:

                                                     wealth to poverty

                                                     health to sickness

Feels good knowing that anything can happen in my life yet my shadow will always follow me;
                                                     birth to death.

Shadows may mimic every movement we do, but they are always distorted. A tortured clone of yourself. Shadows stay forever. Even in Hiroshima. Bombs dropped, people disintegrated. The only survivors were their shadows; etched into the ruins.

They stick with us, no matter what. I guess it's nice to know: when nobody believes in you, at least it looks like somebody does.

Buzz and Ophelia

Seek Solace.

Solace: Comfort or consolation in a time of distress or sadness.

I am not one who gives commentary on religious beliefs - for who am I to say what is right and wrong?
Nevertheless, I like to think of myself as an Energ-ist. While my religion may not be real, my beliefs are; based on the concept that energy never dies. A form of reincarnation, if you will:
- A nice balance between Buddhism (although I think Budhism is the #1 religion)
- and Jedi (which recently has been announced as an official religion) 

I like to think of my body as a temple, my very own Pyramid of Giza. (I have a strange magnetism towards Egypt)

Art is my food;
                       the only way to nourish my soul.
My soul is living energy; currently seeking solace inside of my temple. 

Without art: My body, my soul will wither and eventually will crumble, but this energy will not.

If I am buried, my energy will soak back into the soil of the earth / If I am cremated, my energy will rise and disperse into the air like smoke.

Forever will my energy move around the universe - seeking solace, a home, in any lifeform.
My energy will never die, a part of me will always be living.

Buzz

(Beauty Age Defying) Luck

My aura is like an hourglass - the sand fills the majority of my being. Too bad the DNA of my sand is made up of luck's evil twin, bad luck.

I want to drop my aura off my balcony and watch the glass shatter on the (gum-covered) sidewalk.
I could leave all my bad luck on the pavement - this black hole of bad luck will become single grains of mediocre luck.
        OR, I could collect up every shard of my aura and bring it back home.

The newest skincare, set to hit beauty counters this summer: Beauty Age Defying luck; sliced, ground up, mashed to a pulp and baked at 300 degrees. These ingredients - recently discovered in the depts of your aura - combined with some other promotional bullshit, has unbelievable results.

Trust me, I've tried it.

Ophelia

Source: gurlscout.tumblr.com

Miss Clavel turned on her light and said, "Something is not right."

Title: Madeline (1989)

Going through the motions of living:
Same faces
Same expressions
Same routine
Same teachers
Same teachings - yet something is different.

Faking it 'til you make it - how long 'til it's made? My routine has become just that, a routine.

Do people overthink living? We're constantly driven to broaden our horizons, push our boundaries and forever learn new skills. Yes: Learning. Can we learn without living?

Criticizing ourselves for mundane activities; struggling to accept the necessity of normality, regardless of our complexities.

PASTA FOR DINNER, NO CARDIO, I HUNG OUT THE WASHING TODAY.

Ophelia

Goblin Cat.

Photographer: Buzz

Model: Tibs

Medium: Fisheye Camera

Buzz

Walk, don't Walk.

In a concrete jungle, two men were trapped.

Mr. Red; an ex-marine.
Easily identified by his brick-red, double breasted, suit,
                                rosy cheeks
                                firey hair
                                and harsh stance.
A (once) proud man; now bitter and angry, red with resent. Confided to living the rest of his life inside of a black box - void of any possibility.

Mr. Green; an addict.
With a sickeningly pale complexion (and his green tracksuit), he sits alone in the dark of the black box he inhabits; only occasionally does he stroll to stretch his withered legs.
Once the life of the party
        - now depressed and green with envy.

Two men, neighbours. Irony: Parallels in streets of total interaction.
How sad: So similar, so (perfect for one another) - yet their whole being restricts them from their soulmate.

Crossing lights.

Buzz

The Shortest Horror Story.

The last man on Earth sat alone in a room. There was a knock on the door...
- Fredric Brown


 Buzz

Tempted by contempt.

WE ALL ARE desperately trying to take hold of the situation called life. Sadly, my life - the fucker - doesn't want to shape after me. Or alas, it tries to,
                   but is overcome by my greed, lust, envy and the other four vices humans use to sin.

In love with dedication, but succumbs to temptation.
(Devoted to God Almighty, but is forever lured to party with the Devil)
We accept temptation sight unseen - lacking the essential knowledge until it's far too late. contract signed, keys cut.

Temptation fully defines our existance. It emits a metaphorical phermone that pulls us towards our mistakes and forever reminds us of our ultimate - our reward for resisting to temptation.

Nobody can be contempt when we have temptation.

Ophelia

Writing what I cannot write.

5000 languages - yet humanity is still bound by words. The entity of communication is made up of that.
The complexity of human development is almost fully diminished when our narrowmindedness of communication is revealed.

My brain does not think in words / nor numbers / nor symbols.
Almost like the invisible expansion of radiation
- ideas diffuse and expand,
- undefinable,
- but totally comprehendable to myself.

Who got to decide the words? Humanity will forever suffer from who's choices - we've evolved to only share ideas / feelings that were significant enough to own words. Hence we are banished from growing, expanding, developing.

Thank you, who.

Proportions.

Ants; think of how many roam this planet. If one were to die, would you mourn its life?
More even, a grain of sand. If a grain of sand in the middle of the Sahara were to unexplainably vanish, would you grieve?

See that red dot in the rectangle above?  That dot is you.

A lone soul / active energy / a mere being.
You will face great difficulties.
You will meet ultimate loves.
At times you will feel happy, and others, not.
You will meet thousands of other people, just like you.

That white rectangle above is the universe. That red dot is you.

Your life to you is important, your life to space is irrelevant.
Verman walking amongst awesome power.
Amongst great giants, nothing but grains of sand.

Buzz

Frostbitten

Photographer: Lisa Anne Craig

Medium: Diana+

Ophelia

Death by the Driver

Road rage - Road kill

How simple is the continuation of seemingly random events; of course sadness will follow more sadness. The future is already written in my blood / has already found its way into my innocent genes. I can no longer write my own life, it is already written. The bonds are too strong, they cannot be denied.
Who knows when we relinquish our control - when our past actions set our future actions into concrete.

I've clearly stopped thinking. Do I really mind? (no.)

Ophelia

Feeling blue?

I, Buzz, admit I regret not paying attention in English lessons.
And now, after dropping out of high-school, I am finding it extremely difficult to string together even the most simplest of sentences. Adding wit, let alone grammar is nearly impossible.

So, I leave you with this basic and Neanderthal-like written piece of what goes on inside my head.

'When you say words, I feel colours'

Synesthesia for you.

Buzz

Tabby vs. Russian Blue.

Photographer: Nathan Brook

Models: Chico and Buzz

Medium: iPhone built-in camera, Microsoft Paint

Buzz

What a catastrophe.

Photographer: Lisa Anne Craig

Model: Some cat

Medium: Diana+ and Microsoft Paint

Ophelia

Being seven more than twenty.

It commands a personality of it's own and gives me a feeling of (for lack of a sufficient english word) "satisfaction".
The internal feeling of sliding into a oversized bean bag - contempt.

A perfect cube / atomic number of cobalt / the sum of uranus' moons / letters in the Hebrew alphabet / number of bones in the human hand / meaningless facts that lack all significance

TWENTY SEVEN somehow reflects things I respect. I aim to be TWENTY SEVEN. TWENTY SEVEN is my inspiration.
(This font did not do TWENTY SEVEN justice, so I resorted to caps lock in order to demonstate it's importance)

Ophelia

'You are free to invent your life'

Photographer: Morgan Crowley

Model: Harry Bug Crowley

Medium: Fortune Camera Film

Buzz

Dying would be a wonderful adventure

Steal a needle off a bum and inject yourself with nutmeg -
Find a snake in the Australian outback -
Slit your wrists during the 6 o'clock news and watch the blood run dry -
Jump off the biggest tower in the world -
Serenade a vampire -
Consume nothing but celery and vodka -
Become a cannibal and eat yourself -
Fall in love -

Count the ways to commit suicide.
Ophelia