Thursday, 14 June 2012

'Stay fresh, get paid'

'I thought the motto was YOLO?'

A great day and evening at Manifesto's first gig!
Fly motherfuckers

Sunday, 10 June 2012

Lolita - Nabokov

In the summer dusk; a furry warmth, golden midges. 
Petrified paroxysm of desire. 
A knee sleep walking nearer to mine. 
Eden red apple.
Flies queued up at the door and successfully scrambled in. 
The ashes of last night still lingered in ash trays. 
Oh Mnemosyne sweetest and most mischievous of muses! 
Driving through the drizzle of a dying day, with the windshield wipers in full action but unable to cope with my tears. 
I was alone to enjoy the innocent night and my terrible thoughts. 
I was weeping again, drunk on the impossible past. 
Dissolving in tears. 
Other smothered memories unfolding themselves into limbless monstera of pain. 
A sunset-ending street. 
Her smile wandered with myopic softness over chance objects.
In livid wet dress, under the tumbling mist. 
A cathartic spasm of mental regurgitation.