milk.

sick.

selling my worldly possesions to fund my habit:

BUY MY CRAP

inside my skull/ spring.

Where is my mind? oh it's in the town of twin peaks.

A few nights ago i plucked up the courage to dive into the world of Twin Peaks. I've anticipated watching the series for quite a while as the david lynch films are pretty legendary. In 24 hours i got through the first series no thanks to mega video which enjoys stopping at the most intense moments, and i have to say i can understand why there is a cult following.

Twin Peaks is an American television serial drama created by David Lynch and Mark Frost. The series follows the investigation, headed by FBI Special Agent Dale Cooper, of the brutal murder of a popular teenager and homecoming queen,Laura Palmer.

Dale cooper is a serious babe.

onto series two.

Hard to miss.

well kids, this post is to teach you a lesson in tooth safety. Over the years i have managed to chip/ break two of my teeth three times, yes three times.

The first occasion was in primary school and came about by me leaning backwards on my chair. In this incident i knocked out around four of my pearly whites (all baby teeth no harm done), which may i add some sicko stole from the teachers desk. The tooth fairy is really not that stupid. Anyway, my front tooth came through (the one i've re-broken) as a half tooth. The dentist sorted that badboy out.

Fast forward a decade, two years ago i broke my front tooths next door neighbour by fainting out of a lift, which was embarrasing to say the least. This resulted in the dentist swapping the faulty ones with two lovely veneers, which are meant to be as strong as REAL teeth.

And now we get to the most recent occurence, watching twin peaks, knitting away, cast off and decide to rip the wool with my teeth. bit down hard, bad idea.

So to prevent you from looking like your a cast member of oliver twist, please be careful with your teeth when you are around chairs, lifts and most importantly knitting.

I hear that you are top banana.

The joy of buying second hand clothes, a little present in my pocket.

Do you have soul?

What came first, the music or the misery? People worry about kids playing with guns, or watching violent videos, that some sort of culture of violence will take them over. Nobody worries about kids listening to thousands, literally thousands of songs about heartbreak, rejection, pain, misery and loss. Did I listen to pop music because I was miserable? Or was I miserable because I listened to pop music?

I'm currently re-reading High fidelity for the third time. For anyone who isn't familiar with the book or film adaptation the fundamental story is based on a list of worst breakups by a music obsessed record shop owner. This book makes me want to categorize every aspect of my life into lists of top 5s. everone needs this in their life. beaut.

also John Cusack is seriously hot in the film. ♥

clueless. again.

exhibition in a weeks time, this is some of the work i've tried to pull out of the bag last minute.

CHEW LIPS.

clueless.

Art that i have attempted to produce on my sick bed.

covering inanimate objects in knitting. why?

Disappear here.

Words cannot begin to describe how excited i am about getting my grubby little mitts on Bret's sequel to Less than Zero, imperial bedrooms. I do however have a bitter feeling that the novel itself isn't going to be one of Bret's finest, any story that's based '25 years later' always seems slightly desperate. but hey, its Bret, he guarantees sex drugs and rock and roll. do you really need anything else?

‘Twenty-five years have passed since the events chronicled in Less Than Zero, and Clay Easton, now a successful screenwriter, has returned from a brief stint in New York City to Los Angeles, where he’s helping to cast his newest movie, “The Listeners.” But the more things have changed, the more they stay the same, and Clay is soon drifting around in his familiar old circle. There’s his vulnerable former girlfriend, Blair, and her husband, Trent, now a high-powered agent but still a bisexual philanderer; and the parties they host at their Beverly Hills mansion are filled with Hollywood types of various levels of fame and fortune and power. There’s his childhood friend Julian, a recovering addict running an ultra-discreet, high-class escort service, and their old dealer Rip Millar, reconstructed and face-lifted nearly beyond recognition, who nowadays is involved in activities far more sinister than those of his notorious past. But Clay has demons of his own, and they threaten to destroy him…’

Gut's have shit for brains.