This is our last dance. This is ourselves.

Wednesday, 5 October 2011

Monday, 3 October 2011

'Yet however terrestrial and lumpy their appearance just now to the mean unglamoured eye, to themselves the case was different. They followed the road with a sensation that they were soaring along in a supporting medium, possessed of original and profound thoughts, themselves and surrounding nature forming an organism of which all the parts harmoniously and joyously interpenetrated each other.

They were as sublime as the moon and stars above them, and the moon and stars were as ardent as they.'

From Tess of the D'Urbervilles

Monday, 26 September 2011

From her Lady.

From my Lamb.

"What a terrible and awful thing absence is! I tell myself that half of my existence and happiness is in you, that for all the distance that divides us, our hearts are untied by indissoluble bonds, yet my own rebels against destiny and in spite of the pleasures and distractions that surround me, I cannot overcome a certain secret sadness which I have sense at the bottom of my heart ever since our separation. Why are we not together as we were last summer in your huge study, on that blue sofa, the 'sofa of secrets'? Why can I not, as I did three months ago, draw new moral strength from those eyes of yours, so gentle, so calm, so penetrating, eyes that I loved so well and seem to see before me even as I write."

Leo Tolstoy
War and Peace

Sunday, 18 September 2011

Wednesday, 14 September 2011

The Immortal

Death (or its allusion) makes men precious and pathetic. They are moving because of their phantom condition; every act they execute may be their last; there is not a face that is not on the verge of dissolving like a face in a dream. Everything among the mortals has the value of the irretrievable and the perilous. Among the immortals, on the other hand, every act (and every thought) is the echo of others that preceded it in the past, with no visible beginning, or the faithful presage of others that in the future will repeat it to a vertiginous degree… Nothing can happen only once, nothing is preciously precarious.

Jorge Luis Borges

Tuesday, 13 September 2011

Monday, 12 September 2011

In Paris With You

Don't talk to me of love. I've had an earful
And I get tearful when I've downed a drink or two.
I'm one of your talking wounded.
I'm a hostage. I'm maroonded.
But I'm in Paris with you.

Yes I'm angry at the way I've been bamboozled
And resentful at the mess I've been through.
I admit I'm on the rebound
And I don't care where are we bound.
I'm in Paris with you.

Do you mind if we do not go to the Louvre
If we say sod off to sodding Notre Dame,
If we skip the Champs Elysées
And remain here in this sleazy

Old hotel room
Doing this and that
To what and whom
Learning who you are,
Learning what I am.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris,
The little bit of Paris in our view.
There's that crack across the ceiling
And the hotel walls are peeling
And I'm in Paris with you.

Don't talk to me of love. Let's talk of Paris.
I'm in Paris with the slightest thing you do.
I'm in Paris with your eyes, your mouth,
I'm in Paris with... all points south.
Am I embarrassing you?
I'm in Paris with you.

James Fenton

Monday, 5 September 2011


'Perhaps these reactions are as spiritually immature as those of a nine-year-old child on first hearing of the pleasures of sex: could it really match marbles, or chocolate?'

Alvin Plantinga.

Don't Think Twice

Sunday, 4 September 2011


Have Confidence In Your Competence.

Friday, 2 September 2011

A poem for swingers, a poem for the playgirls of the universe

I like women who haven’t lived with too many men.
I don’t expect virginity but I simply prefer women
who haven’t been rubbed raw by experience.

There is a quality about women who choose
men sparingly;
it appears in their walk
in their eyes
in their laughter and in their
gentle hearts.

Women who have had too many men
seem to choose the next one
out of revenge rather than with

When you play the field selfishly everything
works against you:
one can’t insist on love or
demand affection.
you’re finally left with whatever
you have been willing to give
which often is:

Some women are delicate things
some women are delicious and

If you want to piss on the sun
go ahead
but please leave them

- Charles Bukowski

Saturday, 20 August 2011

Maybe this time...

Being in a play is wonderful. Being in a play in the Edinburgh Fringe Festival is just amazing. But as a consequence, albeit a painful one, when it is all over, the mysterious and heartbreaking Post Show Blues arrives. I can't say I miss the actual show, I will personally never mind if the words 'cerulean blue' are never uttered by my mouth again.

But I am missing the constant company, the hugs on demand, late night reading and bed-shaking giggles. Most of all, I am missing the singing. The spontaneous, inappropriate solos that quickly turned into chorus hits, you were never left singing alone.

I post this video in the hope that one day, we will actually know the words.

Saturday, 30 July 2011

Oh darling little blog, I miss you so. Even now, I'm really struggling with just typing this tiny bit. I hope that this block goes away soon.

Thursday, 21 April 2011

Our Window.

Some very lovely people have noticed that I haven't been blogging very much. I have plenty of things to say ('I've written lots of blogs in my head...') but just haven't had the motivation to get them out of my head. Life is a bit difficult and sad and messy at the moment and I don't want to be an awkward over-sharer.

I did a play, which was amazing. I'm researching a lot for my dissertation. I've been drinking lots of water and listening to sad music in the sun. Some of my friends have been really lovely.

I'll fill in the gaps at some point but until then, I invite you all to listen to the melancholic sounds of 'Noah and the Whale'. Get your lonely/miserable stare on.

Tuesday, 12 April 2011

I am still loving.

Saturday, 5 March 2011


This week has been full of inspirational things...

On Wednesday, LUDS had the opportunity to go to the Playhouse and go to a "Berkoff Masterclass" based on his latest play, an interpretation of "Oedipus". Now, obviously, I love Berkoff. He brought "East" into my little life and made me very happy. Being able to see some of his cast and crew on stage was amazing, having the opportunity to hear about their experiences and watch them at work was really really wonderful. Being able to see such talent right there in front of you is amazing.

And then in the evening, we watched the performance. Jocasta was awful but the chorus work was absolutely exceptional. Their unity as a group was perfect and their physical discipline and bodily tension was just brilliant to watch. They flowed together as one, unified ensemble, working together to tell the story of the city and for me, they were the highlight of the performance

"If we believe that humanity may transcend tooth & claw, if we believe divers races & creeds can share this world as peaceably as the orphans share the candlenut tree, if we believe leaders must be just, violence muzzled, power accountable & the riches of Earth & its Oceans shared equitably, such a world will come to pass."

This week, I finally finished reading "Cloud Atlas" and I absolutely loved it. The book has ten chapters, ranging from 19th Century to post-apocalyptic and back again. Each characters has a chapter at the beginning and a chapter at the end, in a 123454321 like form. Mitchell drags you in, forces you to fall in love with the story of each character and then subtly leads and links you into the next. And then you realise that you are given the chance to return to their story, the cliff hanger fulfilled. The flow of the interconnected stories is this novel's strength, with more than a slight nod to the possibility that all the characters share the same soul. The stories are separate and the narrative voices distinct but the flowing continuity is alluring and unique.

"Happiness only real when shared."

And finally, we come to this little heart breaker, based on a true story. Alexander Supertramp/Christopher McCandless. Chris leaves university and goes on a solitary journey to find out what true happiness is, in the 'wild'. The film documents those that he meets along the way and gives us detailed insights into his life and character. I don't want to give anything away but I could not recommend this film enough. Everything about this film is amazing; the scenery, the acting, the philosophy and the mindset of freedom that underlies the entire film.

Monday, 28 February 2011


Standard Friday night procedure...
She poses.

She dances crazy.

I pose.

I dance crazy.

"Stuff yourself and get thin"

SO I don't blog for a million years and then I do one about my worst nightmare of a dessert.
However, the Dalton family (including respective boyfriends) seemed to love these bad boys and I did promise a while ago that I would share my culinary exploits more often...

Chocolate Peanut Butter Brownies. I hate nuts. In all forms. If you don't like nuts, it's just a nice recipe for chocolate brownies. I'll just type out the instructions as given in the online recipe as well as the little amendments that I made along the way. The original also called for pretzels. But that just seems gross. However, the photos over there are MUCH better than mine because obviously I forgot and took some sporadic photos on the train home....

You have to make it in two parts, one part chocolate mix and the other peanut butter.

For the chocolate bit:
8 tablespoons of unsalted butter. (These were obviously stupid instructions, who uses a spoon for butter?! I just substituted tablespoons for ounces).

2 ounces unsweetened chocolate

4 ounces semi-sweet chocolate (erm, didn't know what this weird "semi-sweet" stuff is, I just used 6 ounces of dark cooking chocolate but you can put in what you like.)

1 teaspoon instant coffee

3/4 cup of granulated sugar. (Again, the weird 'cup' thing. I actually have a variety of 'cup' measuring implements at home. I wouldn't be sure how to work it out without them but I suppose that a normal coffee cup would be just fine, just stay consistent throughout.)

3 large eggs.

1 teaspoon of pure vanilla essence.

2/3 cups of all purpose flour.

1/2 teaspoon of baking powder.

1/4 teaspoon of salt.

Course sea-salt for topping.

1. Place rack in upper third of oven, preheat to 325F. Grease 8x8 baking tray, line with parchment/greaseproof paper and grease it again.

2. Boil a little bit of water in a pan. Put the butter, chocolate (break it into small bits) and coffee in a heat proof bowl and pop it over the water (make sure the bottom of the bowl doesn't touch the water... bad things happen...) Stir until everything is melted and then take the bowl off, add the vanilla extract and leave it to cool.

*Don't throw the water away. It shall be used again...

3. In a little bowl, mix flour, baking powder and salt.

4. Whisk the sugar into the choc/butter mixture. Make sure that the mixture is quite cool and then whisk in the eggs one at a time (it should go really gloopy and thick).

5. Fold in the flour mixture (wooden spoon, figure of eight, gently gently...) and then pop it into your pre-heated tin. Don't worry if it doesn't quite go out to the edges of the tin, it will get bigger when it's cooking.

For the peanut butter bit...

4 tablespoons of unsalted butter

1/2 cup of powdered sugar (I just used icing...)

3/4 cup smooth peanut butter (We only had crunchy, everyone seemed to like crunchy...)

1/4 teaspoon of salt

1/2 teaspoon vanilla extract

1. Melt the butter in the same way as before.

2. Whisk together the peanut butter, the melted butter, sugar, salt and vanilla until smooth.

* If your peanut butter has been in the fridge for about 2 years and is completely solid, take the water that you melted the butter in off the heat (or you'll melt the container) and pop the peanut butter jar into the hot/warm water and it will get all lovely and soft. DO NOT PUT IT IN THE MICROWAVE. Peanut butter labels are made of foil. Foil and microwaves don't get on. Yesterday, my Mum learnt this the hard way...

3. Pour the peanut butter mix on top of the brownie mix and swirl them together in any pattern you like. Top with the sea salt (only a bit, salt and chocolate is just too weird....) and put into the oven for 40/45 mins. When the time is done, pop a skewer/knife in and check that it comes out clean. If it doesn't, it just ain't ready.

So there you have it. Just in case you ever had the urge... And I WILL blog again soon. Properly.

Tuesday, 15 February 2011


"Happiness can be found, even in the darkest of times, if one only remembers to turn on the light.'

Monday, 14 February 2011

Blind Before I Met You.

Not feeling the whole Valentine's Day vibe. There is a part of me that wants to discuss the failings of romance in our everyday lives which leads to grand expectations on a commercially orientated day to make up it... Another time perhaps.

Instead, I share with you two of my favourite things in the whole wide world. My favourite music video and my favourite poem.

followed by...

i carry your heart with me by E.E.Cummings

i carry your heart with me(i carry it in
my heart)i am never without it(anywhere
i go you go,my dear; and whatever is done
by only me is your doing,my darling)
i fear
no fate(for you are my fate,my sweet)i want
no world(for beautiful you are my world,my true)
and it's you are whatever a moon has always meant
and whatever a sun will always sing is you

here is the deepest secret nobody knows
(here is the root of the root and the bud of the bud
and the sky of the sky of a tree called life;which grows
higher than the soul can hope or mind can hide)
and this is the wonder that's keeping the stars apart

i carry your heart(i carry it in my heart)

Sunday, 13 February 2011


Once a year, we have a Performing Arts Ball. We eat, drink and have an obligatory, if not somewhat cringe-worthy dance-off . This year, I wore a white dress (which I miraculously managed to keep out of the way of any colourful fluid), pretended to be a swan/angel/Kate Bush, and had a generally lovely time.

All my life, I have wanted curly hair. I have SO much hair, it is very very thick and it has never curled the way I wanted it to. But I found THIS tutorial on youtube (I can only apologise for the annoying voice of the presenter, watch it with the sound off....) and although it took about two hours and was a little 'bigger' than I wanted it to be, it was lovely to wear my hair in a way that was not merely a variation of 'straight'. I will be removing my hair of any natural condition and shine by practising vehemently until I am the master of all styles...

Saturday, 12 February 2011

Permanently Pissed.


Last night I went out for a Philosophy Social, accompanied by Mathew. While walking home, only mildly inebriated, Mathew announced, "Well, you could definitely tell that those people were cleverer than you..."

Alas, he was absolutely right. This is the kind of philosophy I like best.

Monday, 31 January 2011

All my friends are dead.


Back to the university way of life. BUT I DIDN'T GET A PROPER CHRISTMAS HOLIDAY! The diary for the week is already full but I wouldn't know what to do with empty days (apart from sleeping, eating, time for actual university work....)

Thursday, 27 January 2011

A selection of photos taken during this stupid essay time....

Discovered in the front of a Jonathan Glover book, probably the most interesting thing I've read in forever. A MUST read for those studying Modern History/Ethics.

Written in the back of a VERY boring library book. Summarised perfectly how I was feeling at the time. The library is a beautiful place when there is no-one in it to chew or sniff or breathe too loudly through their nose or eat apples/crisps...

Beautiful and foggy Liverpool nights. The sound of the fog horn reminds me of being back home.

Sneaky little trip to the pub outfit. My face isn't happy but my skirt and t-shirt were.

Around this time of year, I write messages to myself. Usually ones in which I insult and guilt myself in to doing more work. This time, I went for the more inspirational approach.


My darling dog was meant to die over 2 months ago. He hasn't done yet. Well done, Milo.

My Christmas Vans have left their box. They are too clean but that is definitely the way I like them. They are a little big for me but I just cannot bring myself to tie the laces in to bows.

Sporadic snow love hearts.

Fear of the Unknown.

They are afraid of new ideas.
They are loaded with prejudices, not based upon anything in reality, but based on... if something is new, I reject it immediately because it is frightening to me. What they do instead is just stay with the familiar.
You know, to me, the most beautiful things in all the universe, are the most mysterious.


So I sat here for about a million hours and managed to do nothing but change the blog a random pink colour. Hopefully, I will hate it enough to spend another million hours changing it to something much nicer. I may even draw what I want. Oh yeah, serious stuff.

I handed in my essays today. Over 13, 000 words of life-ruining words. I have months worth of stuff to post but today I am just far too sleepy slash excited for THE weekend! Birthday after birthday, bottle of wine after bottle of wine, outfit after outfit (including a duck outfit)....

Wednesday, 12 January 2011

This is what I wore tonight. I'm never sure about this dress but I got some lovely compliments and I often find that that is all you need to be convinced. It will definitely be making a more regular appearance.

'I was happier fat'

Life is a bit depressing. Essay writing routine kicks in and I begin to question why I am doing an MA at all. I have a degree, a good degree. I need to remember that what I'm doing now is just extra. But it's important. I'm struggling.
This week hasn't been great. However, I managed to pop into the Walker Art Gallery and saw these two pictures...

Super star fucker is above. Easy to get lost in and work out all the links.

Turn the laptop upside down and look from the pink bit of sky upwards. Two pictures in one.

Friday, 7 January 2011

Limit To Your Love.

I cannot stop listening to this little beauty. The perfect combination of voice, piano and beat, I think we will be hearing PLENTY of James Blake this year.

Tuesday, 4 January 2011


Today, if you cut me in half, I think you'd find a lemon.

Sunday, 2 January 2011

I worry that the last thing I wrote was beyond boring. Oops.

New Dawn.


As previously mentioned, I appreciate the New Year as something fresh and I do like to make resolutions. If I really wanted these things, then of course I would do them of my own accord throughout the year but the beginning of a new year, of a new decade, gives me a push of incentive, inspiration and motivation that can be difficult to find.

1. Pass driving test. Spending that much money to CONTINUOUSLY fail is annoying but it will be worth it in the end. I mustn't let it all go to waste.

2. Keep flat tidier. It makes Mathew very miserable when I am messy and makes me feel like a bad person.

3. Get the balance right between MA work, other extra-curricular work and play. I have to remember that I have a degree, the initial pressure is off, but this could be the difference between a dream job and a life in retail...

4. Find what dream job is. Get it...

5. Lose the obligatory half a stone. Unlike most, I eat more when I am happy. Not that I want to be miserable but I think not eating 4 chocolate mousses for lunch won't do much harm.

6. Change blog address to one that is vaguely relevant to title of said blog... DONE.

This where you will be able to find me!