Monday, May 30, 2011

Oh Ruthie Davis

You thrill me in all my places.
Perusing the web for images of your shoes made me feel like I was voyeuristically partaking in shoe flavoured bondage with S & M overtones. 

I liked it.

A lot




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Friday, May 27, 2011

A Picture of Patience



It has been suggested by a number of people at a number of different points in my life that I am not one who is blessed with the most honed sense of patience. Being made to wait features in my top 5 pet hates, it irks me. Makes me cranky. I'm not a waiter. I often blow my budget for the week because I am unable to wait until the next week to purchase a pair of shoes, bottle of wine...shiny new thing.

The point here is to outline how VERY good and patient I have been and how that has payed off.

I have wanted a good camera, a big black, slightly obnoxious, fancy schmancy DSLR camera pretty much since the beginning of time. I've ummed and ahhed, i've come SO close to buying one on countless occasions but have never been able to justify spending the required money to get one for my very own.

But there is a break on the horizon, one of my friends, quite the photographic aficionado is upgrading and in a few short weeks I will have a shiny Nikon D80 in my little paws.


Stand-by for examples of my photographic skills reflecting raw talent the quality of which is unfathomable given the lack of professional training...in a year or seven, until then, prepare to enjoy some out of focus, blurry and overexposed photos.

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Thursday, May 26, 2011

Robot Truth

Truth is a funny thing. In theory and according to the ever helpful Dictionary.com it is the true or actual state of the matter. In reality it is well...an individuals perception of the true or actual state of the matter. It could be argued that the truth is the truth no matter what the perception, that the truth is a constant in a world of variables. To that I say, calm down crazy back yo' shit up. It's like the chicken and the egg, a tree falling in a forest. If you believe what you have said is that statement not made in the fullest sincerity of truth telling? If you tell a part of a truth, is it not still the truth? Perhaps it is not the whole thing but that portion of that truth is no less true despite being only a fraction of a whole.

It could now be argued that I have justified every half-truth, omission and self-percieved version of an event that has ever been. I have just okayed the million and one half-truths, omissions and self perceived versions of the truth that have been told, or incidentally not told, to me in the last...ever.

In rebuttal I say this. When I was walking through a neighbourhood that I had never been to before I happened upon a piece of street art, was compelled to take a phot of it, because that's what all the hip kids do and what is it there for, if not for me to photograph, and felt even further compelled to write a post about it.

So there you have it.

This post today brought to you by a robot on a whitewashed wall in Melbourne's inner-ish east.


I salute you badass robot.
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Saturday, May 21, 2011

Excuses Excuses

I've been guilty quite often lately of going some time without a post, posting a profound apology (they truly are apologetic, don't get me wrong) and then slipping into cyber anonymity again. It is not so much a lack of material or time...I mean, how long does it really take to write a post, the awesome just flows from my brain an onto the screen...I lie, it takes me AGES to think, re-think, edit, re-edit, delete, re-re-write and finally post a blog which reflects an acceptable level of wit and pazazz.

Also, the successful choosing of an unlimited internet service provider and the recent accumulation of a number of different technological gadgets due to my new job, I am finding myself more and more easily distracted by the shiny callings of the many far reaching corners of the internet and technological realm. One could almost...ALMOST venture so far as to say that I am becoming more nerdy. I have always been something of the reclusive bookworm type, spending many a late night up as an early primary school child reading the works of Dickens, Tolkien and Shakespeare by torchlight after lights out, I am a self professed Star Wars fan, not of the fanatical type however. I didn't wait in line overnight to get the first tickets to The Phantom Menace, I can't quote you The Empire Strikes Back word for word but if the opportunity arises rest assured that I will hunt down a prisoner Leia outfit and rock that shit.


Just quietly, I am hoping that the aforementioned opportunity doesn't arise for at least a couple of months, until I have had a chance to make up the ground lost from a month of latent nothingness as a result of my broken toe.

I digress, the problems herein. I am currently the forerunner for Miss Struggletown 2011, juggling all of my new responsibilities which more often than not spill out of business hours, maintaining my posting schedule for A Drop Of Ink and making sure that I keep myself fed, watered and rested on a regular basis is proving quite a task.

After a huge week I was thrilled to come upon the weekend. What a glorious time, one where I would be productive, making my way through the pile of washing that seems never to diminish, vacuuming, scrubbing and dusting our apartment and making a dent in the extra weight that i've miraculously acquired recently. It seems that fate had other plans for me. My body refused to move, leaving me bedridden and after a while, quite agitated until early afternoon where I poured myself most un-gracefully onto the floor and dragged/crawled/clawed my way to the shower.

So there you have it my official, rambling, incoherent and somewhat thin excuse for the lack of attention that i've been showing of late.

Forgive me.

And forgive the miserable quality of this post...its a wonder sometimes that you all still follow me...thanks guys x
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Thursday, May 19, 2011

The Parental Unit

Having just spent a weekend with my parents, they traveled 2000km to visit, I have come to a conclusion.

When you are very young, you look up to your parents as god-like creatures, teaching you the ways of the world. They spend their days both sheltering you and showing you the ins and outs of all the grown up things that you can one day look forward to. They do things in your best interest, like marching you into the bank to draw out some unimaginablke amount of money...probably $100 of accumulated birthday, Christmas and tooth fairy money to invest. There is nothing more heartbreaking to a child than having to hand over that sum of money. Because honestly, who could ever hope to earn that amount of cash in their lives!

Once you reach a certain age you realise that your parents are not in-fact god-like, on the contrary, they are silly unknowledgable people from a bygone era qho will never fully understand you in all your immeasurable teenage depth. *cue angsty punk rock and passive aggressive behaviour*...and you wonder why they don't understand you.

You leave home rejoicing at being free of the oppression of your parents, you veritably leap for joy at the very concept of life out of home. Forgetting that Mum and Dad provided you with the money for your bond, helped you move and bought all of your furniture for you. Oh so independent. You live happily in your cocoon of self-importance and general awesomeness, getting by on a diet of instant mi-goreng noodles, pasta and chicken...when it's on special.

After a few share houses and a number of unsavoury housemates you settle-ish and begin to consider the possibility that your earlier perception of your parents as oppressive curfew implementing monsters may not be quite accurate.


You thank your lucky stars that Facebook wasn't around when you were a teenager and cringe to think how whiny, self-involved and lame your status updates would have been (I write on my blog...the purest form of self importance imaginable...LOOK AT ME I HAVE AN ENTIRE WEBPAGE DEVOTED TO MY AWESOMENESS!!!)

A number of international trips and a bail out from self inflicted debt later you thank your father, silently because you're still not ready to let him know that he was right, that he marched you into the bank that day. Now that you earn more than $100 a year you also appreciate that he showed you the value of a dollar.

Now i'm not saying that my parents are always right because, as a child of my generation that is against my religion but I will happily admit that they are awesome. Living so far away from them has made me appreciate just how much my parents have done, do and always will do for me. I miss being able to see them at a whim, although with technology as it is, its not hard to keep in touch. Sometimes it is hard though, spending time with friend or partners family and missing that strange and dysfunctional dynamic that every family has but you don't notice in your own until you are detached from it.

Now when I see my parents, rather than being filled with thoughts of misunderstanding and annoyance as I was wont to do in my angst ridden teen years I am reminded of the patience and love shown to me as a child. I remember the first time my Dad let go of the bike seat on my brothers black BMX when he was teaching me to ride. I am reminded of sitting on the bench with Mum making toast. I am also reminded of our trip to Thailand for my 21st where we got kind of drunk on cocktails (there is nothing quite so funny as watching your mother drinking Sex On The Beach from a glass in the shape of a lady's naked torso).

So yes, in all my super mature 24-and-a-bit-year-old retrospect I see that my parents are two of the greatest, most patient and generous people I have ever had the good fortune to know and despite the musings of my teenage self, they did not, in fact ruin my life.

And after that gushy admittance of parental love I feel the need to go and do something rebellious.

Excuse me. I'm going to go and slam my door.




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Saturday, May 14, 2011

I love this city

You can drive down a street and see a Hasidic Jew walking on one side of the road and an Asian gentleman wearing a kilt and sporran on the other, holding hands with a beautiful man, the two of them with matching shaved heads and have it be the most normal thing.

The changing of the seasons means something here, like now...the afternoon sun dances through the red, brown, orange, gold leaves of the deciduous trees. Cars parked on the street are aflame with dropped leaves.

Every lane way, every alley, every street is dripping with personality, steeped in culture. Real, implied by photographing it with a vintage effect.

There is always something to do. Something to see.

Restaurants.

Theatre.

Coffee.

Wine.

Art.

Melbourne's where its's at.










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Tuesday, May 10, 2011

Neglect

Its true, I have been neglecting Something Cakes in the worst way. There is no excuse for the lack of attention that i've been showing this blog of late.

The startup of the new blog and the hours of research that are going into that coupled with my new work schedule which simply does not allow me time to sit in front of a computer blogging while simultaneously creating the illusion of industrious productivity.

I promise to write something full, interesting and thought provoking soon but in the mean time...










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