pure art and love

somebody recently proclaimed to me, "pure art and love from here forth..." - which may or may not make your mind tick the way it did mine. art and love; not bad things to have in your heart, not bad things at all.

today has a rant, and it is presented to you as the following:

i have this tiny tiny bedroom in the place that i live, and i'm grateful to have anything at all when so many don't of course.  large wardrobe though, poses problems when most of it is simply stacked with luggage and bags, plus boxes of stuff left unpacked because the place i live is shared and there's no need for most of it to be out of it's boxes at this moment in time.

when I had my own space entirely, let's call that last place that was *really* my own Wilton Street (ahh Wilton Street) there was a place for everything. never terribly much clutter. spread out; all used regularly. cleaned really well once a week on 'bin night'. and yet most things contained in that house were completely easily flittered away when i left that town, given away to the students living across the road, put on the street for the taking or sold cheaply to generous friends.

for those of you that never got the opportunity to visit; each wall in that house was continuously evolving, so much so that people would stop and try to find the thing that was added since their last visit. large habit of mine, keeping strange bits of memorabilia, sometimes in tins. i love tins.

most of the more notable pieces i have, wooden sculptures, flags, and the like, are from the various roads travelled. and sometimes things would be put on the wall together without me noticing. i recall a day where i noticed every photograph of a person i had in a particular part of one of the corners of the house - well they were all staring the same direction. it was completely unintentional, however probably subconscious i suppose.

you will notice there are no tins in view in either of these old Wilton-photos, but mr potato head burning an american dollar bill makes up for that.

i digress.  my point is that many creative juices have been flowing in the old mind of late - in fact for the last few years - and yet putting said ideas into fruition seems always an issue.  i can't write about said things here in the blogosphere of course, for fear someone will beat me to it. but i suppose i've decided if i am stuck here in this olde city where i grew up, then if i can't contribute something creative and interactive for the people that constantly flit around the world like me, then i have failed (myself, mostly).

is this just an reaction to turning 35... well yes that eventuality is coming up rather more quickly than i'd like. mostly the reaction is: 'how the hell did that happen?!' to tell you the truth.

where DO the years go?! are they saved up for later? i saw a good ole meme the other day that said 'what if that light people report seeing near death is just you being pushed out of another vagina?' - which made me giggle. because the reincarnation part of some trains of thought has always fascinated me.

the point, the point, the point... yes yes julie faye make a god damned point! there is no point i suppose. sometime in the future i will have a weblog with a point. it will be ABOUT memorabilia and i'd love some other contributors from other parts of the globe. actually i have about 3 ideas for idea-sharing type websites.

okay i thought of one point. two, actually. OPTIMISM and HOPE. well, yes, okay.... some of the rants you may have read here in the past may seem a little grumpy; let's face it, we now have possibly the worst ignorant idiotic prime minister in australian history (i'd put him up there with dubbya, truly); but recently i asked one of my besties: 'fuck, what is it that make people think i'm eternally optimistic?' - her answer was because you are a believer that we can actually do something about all this fuckery (i of course added the last few words, but i'm a big fan of the word 'fuckery' - though she truly is cool enough to say such things in real life - ha!)

this message brought to you with little capitalisation on purpose.

xJ