He pulled the mirrors off his cadillac,

cause he doesn't like it looking like he looks back

Tame Impala Elephant

Beatles' Magical Mystery Tour, Blue Jay Way

photo by Ira Cohen

Well I had a lovely day today. I picked up the latest issue of Oh Comely, found an interesting book by A. Alvarez about suicide, and got some new film for my camera. I took a walk around where I live, without direction, purposefully disorientating myself. Sunflowers, stone, white on grey, windows and volkswagens, directions, accents, lingering shadows, keep the engine running, missed opportunities, lips parted, unusual quiet, head against the pane, breeze on my cheeks.
This week I have been on a magical mystery tour of the wonderful world of psychedelia. Seeing the afformentioned Beatles film was a revelation! It was brilliant. I loved the freedom of the camera, the prism-like distortions, the projections and layering. My favourite scenes were probably when they actually performed songs, particularly George Harrison's Blue Jay Way, which was enchanting. I'm also listening to Tame Impala's album Lonerism , which is pretty Beatles-esque in parts. The video for Elephant is probably the best music video I have ever seen. I usually find music videos quite tiresome, I'd rather just listen to the song, but the video for Elephant, directed by Yoshi Sodeoka is so visually arresting, I can barely look away. There are loads of comments beneath it on Youtube about how it is/would be great/scary/trippy to watch whilst high, but I think it works perfectly well instead of drugs, experiencing it sober seems powerful enough to me.
Perhaps my eyes need a rest. At college we've been doing life drawing all week, which was amazing and tiring. I think it's true what they say about how drawing teaches you to look differently, properly, critically. I catch myself paying much more attention to forms and volumes and negative space. I was sat on the bus the other day, daydreaming and looking at the soft curve at the elbow of some stranger, imagining how I would draw it. I could almost feel the shape. It was strange. Unexpected, but welcome.

x 

Go chase the wild and night time streets...

Today has been pretty swell. I woke up early and went to town, and as the sun was out we walked through the park, which was refreshing. There was this beautiful tree whose branches were stooped to the ground, pregnant with blossom, which I picked and swirled into the air like confetti. After some dull banking we went to some charity shops where I bought this silky chinese-style dress and a candy pink plaid cotton one, which reminds me a little of Lolita, or at least how I imagine her in my head.
Then we popped into the library, where I withdrew Bande à Part and a book on art and feminism that looks amaaaaazing. After that I just lazed around and day dreamed about a project I'd like to start in a few months, to organise a small artist-run gallery/space where I could show the work of students in the local sixth forms/colleges/university and hold community events like zine fests and craft evenings. Of course I'd need funding and generous volunteers to make it work, so I'll try and recruit some people when I begin art foundation. I've only really had the idea today, so it's at that airy, ethereal, intangible phase where anything feels possible. Like Schrodinger's cat: only by lifting the lid, putting myself out there and hoping for the best can I find out whether it will live or die.

(I've also started on issue two of Grin and Bear It, above)

It is night neddying among the snuggeries of babies.

"To Begin at the beginning:

It is spring, moonless night in the small town, starless and bible-black, the cobblestreets silent and the hunched, courters' -and-rabbits' wood limping invisible down to the sloeblack, slow, black, crowblack, fishingboat-bobbing sea. The houses are blind as moles (though moles see fine to-night in the snouting velvet dingles) or blind as Captain Cat there in the muffled middle by the pump and the town clock, the shops in mourning, the Welfare Hall in widows' weeds. And the people of the lulled and dumbfounded town are sleeping now."

I went to a few charity shops yesterday and bought some books, among which was Under Milk Wood by Dylan Thomas. This is part of the opening passage and I love it. It's so lyrical and rhythmic: the words trip from the tongue and tumble over each other in the most pleasureable way. There are some recordings of it being read on youtube, which I like to listen to whilst reading. God, I wish I could write like Thomas.

I also bought a book called 1001 Images of Cats, and yes, it's exactly what you think it is, and yes, it is glorius.

Lo-lee-ta

"Lolita, light of my life, fire of my loins. My sin, my soul. Lo-lee-ta: the tip of the tongue taking a trip of three steps down the palate to tap, at three, on the teeth. Lo. Lee. Ta.

She was Lo, plain Lo, in the morning, standing four feet ten in one sock. She was Lola in slacks. She was Dolly at school. She was Dolores on the dotted line. But in my arms she was always Lolita."