Musings of a Girl Gamer & Sometimes Writer
This was strange since it seems to belong to Thailand rather than Paris...I took a picture but didn't listen very carefully as to why this was in the middle of Paris. I like it though...especially since I leave for Thailand in eleven days.
When I was a little girl...I was completely fascinated with mermaids. My mother read me the original story, in which the little mermaid turns to sea-foam in the end and is scattered across the waves, her love unrequited by the prince. So influential was the story that I once made myself a mermaid's tail out of plasic shopping bags and sequins and nearly drowned myself in our swimming pool...needless to say my mum stopped reading me stories to do with mermaids. This merman in the Place de la Concorde was quite interesting I thought. Considering so many beheadings took place in this square during the French Revolution...there's something quite poignant about him.
I've selected some interesting photos I took while in Paris to post here. I've only chosen four that are worthwhile or else this will start to look like a travel journal and nothing else.
I write this post a bit sad. It's been only a few months since this darling boy, who was not only a talented actor but much beloved friend, was killed in my hometown of Cape Town. Some young gangsters, high-out-of-their-minds on crack, shot him in what was a random carjacking. I don't feel the same about Cape Town anymore, although it will always be my home. I miss him especially today as I dreamt about him recently. Sigh...I'm going to focus on this picture...which reminds me of happier times. I miss you, Brett and sometimes, just sometimes it feels like you're still here.
I love this excerpt from the poem 'From Autumn Journal' as it reminds me of cafe scenes from parts of London, during Autumn. Perhaps it's inappropriate to reflect on this poem in the middle of the English Summer...even as I'm writing this the sunlight is streaming through the window and the bumble-bees are droning lazily, like overweight fairies...but I guess my heart is perpetually in Autumn which, (since coming to Europe) has become my favourite season - where the trees seem to burn with red, orange and yellow as if on fire and then are suddenly naked and sad. It seems to be from a male perspective and the woman described is full of faults...erm...which I guess I find comforting because perfect people disturb me...deeply. She obviously reminds him of the seasons, as she is tempestuous and forever changing and yet he loves her and finds her intriguing *sigh* how Romantic. I've edited it I'm afraid, so get a poetry anthology if you want the whole thing.
September has come, it is hers
Whose vitality leaps in the autumn,
Whose nature prefers
Trees without leaves and a fire in the fire-place;
So I give her this month and the next
Though the whole of my year should be hers who has renderd
already
So many of its days intolerable or perplexed
But so many more so happy;
Who has left a scent on my life and left my walls
Dancing over and over with her shadow,
Whose hair is twined in all my waterfalls
And all of London littered with remembered kisses.
So I am glad
That life contains her with her moods and moments
More shifting and more transient than I had
Yet thought of as being integral to beauty;
Whose mind is like the wind on a sea of wheat,
Whose eyes are candour
and assurance in her feet....
I shall remember you in bed with bright
Eyes or in a cafe stirring coffee
Abstractedly and on your plate the white
Smoking stub your lips had touched with crimson.
And I shall remember how your words could hurt
Because they were so honest
And even your lies were able to assert
Integrity of purpose...
While the title of this blog is also a line from a Morrissey song (which I love, love, love...a lot) it is also the excuse I give for daydreaming so much. Once again I find myself successfully avoiding my own writing schedule & rather indulging in someone else's...oh the internet is a wicked, wicked thing for girls who love to procrastinate with a capital 'P'. Anyway, I'm reading a collection of poetry by Constantine Cavafy and I came across this poem...which makes me sigh and stare out the window:
I've Looked so Much...
I've looked on beauty so much
that my vision overflows with it.
The body's lines. Red lips. Sensual limbs.
Hair as though stolen from Greek statues,
always lovely, even uncombed,
and falling slightly over pale foreheads.
Figures of love, as my poetry desired them
....in the nights when I was young,
encountered secretly in my nights.
Well, you probably won't find out from my vague allusions on this blog, as I lack focus at the best of times and find it difficult to explain myself...unless I'm working on my writing projects :)
So, for those who I've confused, here's the link to the official site:
http://www.atpfestival.com/index.php
See...unmistakably a little pony. I added the butterflies of course...and stars...and I can't draw...but nevertheless this looks like a pony to me.
Then I saw this cute deer / my-little-pony shape in the sand...that no one else could see apart from me. Everyone thought I was just hungover...which I was...but that wasn't the point. I clearly see a little deer thingie in the sand made by the sea foam...here....let me illustrate with my lame photoshop skills.
I found this rather sad little starfish washed up on the shore...I tried to throw him back but alas, he was fated to meet his untimely end next to this rather lovely shell...and funny-coloured sea-foam.
Whenever I go to ATP...despite the awesome bands and midnight madness, I always end up taking more pictures of the scenery. Pontins Camber Sands is a surreal, slightly frightening English sea side resort complete with fake, foam octopus and psuedo pirate paraphernalia and yet for the time that ATP is taking place...the whole place is infused with life and excitement. It is almost always cold, miserable and wet but the bands are fantastic. However, you will find no pictures of the bands I'm afraid on this blog...just my inebriated fascination with the scenery.
Now, my hair is chopped and black. I want to grow it long again...but there is nothing quite as sensual as chopping one's hair off after growing it for awhile...anyway, I'll see how long I can hold out.
This was completely done on impulse. I chopped off my glorious locks and went red...then white and red streaks...but then it started turning purple.
I recently spent some time in Paris - Paris is good for the soul, I think...except that it helps to speak better French than I do. Anyway, Paris reminded me that there is far too much beauty in the world to remain sad and sometimes, just sometimes that beauty is enough to even out all the other fucked up things in the world. Wandering around the city one lazy afternoon, scouting out a restaurant in which to have a chilled-out supper, I found this fabulous book shop, where the books are piled to the ceiling and you can hardly move. Every book I've ever loved, every comic, every graphic novel and interesting design book I could think of was in this shop and the owner appeared to be more of a collector than a seller. I found this interesting stencil just outside the shop and when I get a new bookshelf, I shall be back to that shop the blink of an eye to get more books.
I cut my own hair recently...so this photo probably doesn't do justice to how bad it actually looks but oh well. This is my first post in ages...and it's about my hair...wow...I'm superficial but then this year has been so hard and I've lost three people I loved dearly - all of whom were young and vibrant and should not have been so untimely 'yanked' from the world...so if I focus on my hair, then it is only as a distraction and escape from the complete 'funk' I've been in for the last three months. Grief also makes one regress in some ways. Yes, I'm wiser, harder and all that usual crap and I've spent a lot of time reading those annoying quote books all about grief but I've also found myself longing for childhood and innocence and 'unknowing' (if that makes sense). Found this girl whose style I completely love, a fantasy artist called Johanna Ost http://www.johannaost.com/. She seems just as pony-mad as I am and also likes documenting her ever changing hair. She rocks and reminds me of all the things I loved in my childhood. She also evokes in me a strange nostalgia for the 80's...which I never thought I'd hear myself saying. Oh well...viva la hair!
Musings of a Girl Gamer & Sometimes Writer
