photos by Freya

At 11pm last night we stopped procrastinating and painted our bathroom. Approaching the task with reckless abandon, everything between us and the walls was at the mercy of our paint brushes. Moving to the drum of Lilly's i-phone beat we lacquered the walls in a color which Bunnings has aptly deemed 'Ice Mist.' The experience took us through a spectrum of mood swings which rocked from extreme playfulness to extreme madness to extreme frustration and then finally into a frenzy of extreme body art. By the end of our creative endeavor the paint fumes had stripped our skin bare and there was nothing left of us but a pile of bones floating peacefully inside a bubble bath.

Words, when you are truly possessed by them, they seep through every orifice in your body until you can’t open your eyes or ears without them jumping out at you from graffitied walls or song lyrics. You are bound in linguistic matrimony and there is no other companion sweeter than that which is sapped from your own mind’s keg.

“Every once in a while, but not often, you can sit down and write a thing that you know is going to stand people’s hair on end for the rest of their lives- a perfect memory of some kind, like a vision, and you can see the words rolling out of your fingers and bouncing around for a while like wild little jewels before they finally roll into place & line up just exactly like you wanted them to…” - Hunter.S.Thompson

My hair has stood since the first time I read this passage. It rolled into place form me. The will for writing, the addiction of it, you become a feigned for those brief, explosive moments. Just when you think you have lost your touch, it slides its hand up your leg and reassures you with one pure sentence. Purity. That’s why you do it, for the little wild jewels amongst the rough.

Under the surface our lips embrace
You suck the air from my lungs
My gills gasp open.
( releasing a mermaid back into the sea )

Eyes like jellied sapphire, skin like silk
the deep blue
swallows
u

No gravity
oxygen depravity
invisible world
take me under.

Ariel!

we found a portal to another world without suitcases and fuel

where the trees shed their petals

'I hear water..
I see falls.'

There is a pleasure in the pathless woods,
There is a rapture on the lonely shore,
There is society, where none intrudes,
By the deep Sea, and music in its roar;
I love not man the less, but Nature more,
From these our interviews, in which I steal
From all I may be, or have been before,
To mingle with the Universe, and feel
What I can Never express, yet can not all conceal.
- Lord Byron -

Psychonautical Levitation

Halfway through the Jack Ladder's set a man in his mid-fifties strolled in off the street and offered Kirin a firm handshake in congratulations for his melody, a melody that had sucked people off the street and led them into a dark room with falic appendages and nonchalant youths. The man stayed, swayed. I watched his eyes glaze over and surrender to a brief reprieve from the tethers of suburban life. He had probably been strolling down streets all his life listening out for that one fleeting moment of suspended reality.. and here it was.

Brain Slaves in a fabric factory

As far as I knew we were going to a house party but instead of being greeted by a slandering host there were men in penguin suits spiking the punch and serving us mint flavored gelato. Surrounded by an infinite ceiling and giant swirls of fabric Brain Slaves performed to a crowd of girls wearing heels that could have pierced the concrete. There sound is like Super Quality Velvet, it wraps around you, brushes your skin up the wrong way, makes your senses crawl. When they played Ecstasy the room lost it's gravity, everyone was swept up into a colorful scepter of psychedelic drones and calypso rhythms. My brain was enslaved.

Bronte Beach

Lucy in the Sea with Diamonds

We saw The Middle East try their hands at 14 different instruments including a Lagerphone; if The Arcade Fire and Fleet Foxes had a hoedown this band is what it would sound like. The sound of 612 devoted fans humming along to one of their choruses would have made any sane person run into the ocean bare footed.

You left me.

Hangin’round an empty saloon
Illuminated
In full bloom

I howled for you
You are the moon

Constant revere
Inside my sphere
Symphonies
All I hear

I howled for you
You are the moon

Resting
Inside your lair
Falling

If I dare
to;

Howl for you
You are my moon

The view from my cabin

At night all of the junks turn off their engines. I fell asleep to the sound of the water lapping at wooden planks. White sails overhead. Ghosts, watching over me as I rock the anchor of sleep, refusing to sink into my minds-eye in fear of waking up and never feeling as intensely peaceful as this ever again.