The woman (?) holding Salvador Dali's hand looks like the transgender from Cycle a million of America's Next Top Model. Seriously though, why do they keep producing more and more cycles of that show? They're all the same: Token fatty, token shorty, a mix of every American minority group, including but not limited to, the Latino, the Asian, the transgender, the lesbian and the African American/s - and then there's always the one contestant who actually has the potential to work as a high fashion model but she never wins. What a joke

"To understand bad taste, one must have very good taste. Good bad taste can be creatively nauseating but must, at the same time, appeal especially to the twisted sense of humor, which is anything but universal."- John Waters in Shock Value

P O S T O F F I C E

“There is a time to stop reading, there is a time to STOP trying to WRITE, there is a time to kick the whole bloated sensation of ART out on its whore-ass.” - Charles Bukowski  

Currently reading Post Office by Charles Bukowski. I always seem to be drawn to those semi autobiographical, male-beat-generation-type-1950s sort of characters and the novels that illustrate that niche. Namely, anything by Hunter S. Thompson, Burroughs, Kerouac and now Bukowski. I can't even relate to any of these characters in the slightest and yet I continue to find their narratives that often involve work, travel, drugs, alcohol and womanising so appealing.
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T H I R D S ?

I've been a little detached from the blogosphere recently because I've finally decided to get motivated about my prospective career as a journalist/creative professional. I guess not having a job since Christmas has given me a lot of time to write and get projects started etc, so, this post will serve as a little harmless self promotion.

At the moment I'm a perpetual contributor for the RaraCurio 'Latest Cry' on www.raracurio.com.au, mostly covering fashion in a retrospective context, and I've also started my own project on the side called www.thirdsmagazine.com with my amazing friend Carly from fivehundred blog.

So blah blah blah self promotion, check it out...

www.thirdsmagazine.com 

T H E F I N E S T

Those Joseph Szabo photographs remind me of Lolita. They're creepily voyeuristic and perverse but strangely alluring, kind of like Humbert Humbert. 

"It will be marked that I substitute time terms for spatial ones. In fact, I would have the reader see "nine" and "fourteen" as the boundaries - the mirrory beaches and rosy rocks - of an enchanted island haunted by those nymphets of mine and surrounded by a vast, misty sea. Between those age limits, are all girl-children nymphets? Of course not. Otherwise, we who are in the know, we lone voyagers, we nympholepts, would have long gone insane. Neither are good looks any criterion; and vulgarity, or at least what a given community terms so, does not necessarily impair certain mysterious characteristics, the fey grace, the elusive, the shifty, soul-shattering, insidious charm that separates the nymphet from such coevals of hers as are incomparably more dependent on the spatial world of synchronous phenomena than on that intangible island of entranced time where Lolita plays with her likes."

Lolita - Vladamir Nabokov