In the spring time

There is subtle pleasures in pain. And silent revelries in misfortunes. 

"... death is not an enemy but a brother. Death is a beautiful naked man who looks like Apollo, and he is not satisfied with those who wither away in old age. Death is a perfectionist, he likes the young and beautiful, he wants to stroke our hair and caress the sinew that binds our muscle to bone."

One of the many beautiful passages in Captain Corellis Mandolin by Louis de Bernières. 

Only the dead fish go with the flow. 

URBAN

I've always loved the urbanscape. Perhaps it's the presence of rust, the beauty embedded in dirt, the claustrophobic congestion, the incessant activity, the deafening clashes and bangs and the piercing screams of ambulance and police cars.. It's the overall speed of it all. Could it be the adrenalin? Who knows. 

But what I love most about the city is its lack of space. An abiotic presence warranting the coexistence between elements both organic and inorganic. And here is where architecture shows off, art brings to reality the most vast imaginations. And culture, well it starts to speak for itself. Apparently, Japan does the urbanscape well. So does New York. But I've yet to see them for myself. For now, all I can say is, Sydney, you are one beautiful badass motherfucker. 

THOUGHTFOOD

"In times of prosperity, friends are plenty. In adversity, not one in twenty. "

When you think about how many people in your life that has truly been there for you. Like really been there. You come to this realization that despite the many friends you have, the endless encounters with strangers, the new characters you meet, there's really only a handful of them that truly was there. And it's bittersweet.

On your graduation, on the highest of times and the lowest of events, the wedding, the scare, the funeral, the break-up, the make up, the retrenchment, the proposal, the retirement, the promotion, the divorce, the birth... who was there?

To my lovers,

Just to catch you up on things. My whereabouts, whoabouts and whatabouts.. A short summary on me being M.I.A.

Tumblr. For yummy pictures that catch me eyes Ive resorted to keeping my Tumblr (very fucking) alive (confession: that's where I've been these past few weeks :/ Though I try to keep it sane over there) If y'all want a piece of that, just head to justcrue.tumblr.com

Twitter. I thought Ill never get into this. But I'm on it and I'm liking it. I feel so close to these musicians I admire (not in a stalker ish kinda way). I love seeing a personal side of them and their path to music making. And just recently, I found another love: To 'watch' Live NBA. I 'witnessed' my beloved Chicago Bulls breaking the Heat ! It was quite a thrilling experience for me. Great work to the commentators, I assume it can't be easy dictating descriptions on such a fast paced game! Finally, although personally keeping record of my life wasn't what twitter was intended for, when I managed to think of something witty once in a blue moon, its nice to have somewhere to put it on with not a care in the world who reads it, what it says about me, what do I mean... Etc. it's great. Because in life, most of the time, IT IS JUST WHAT IT IS.

Facebook is still there. I tried Pinterest but it didn't appeal to me at all... Okay, I'm feeling like the queen of social network. thank god I don't see myself needing LinkedIn. Professional social networking would just be too much to handle. It won't be my forte considering the fact that I can be quite profane.

Anyway, I've got this plan to have this most cherished blogspot of mine solely for write ups- reviews, stories and those endless poetic banter I sometimes feel like doing.

I love this space, and I hope you guys do too. Ill see you all very very soon !

- B

Too young for old people problems, too old to not give a shit.

- m

One

“The best day of your life is the one on which you decide your life is your own. No apologies or excuses. No one to lean on, rely on, or blame. The gift is yours. It is an amazing journey, and you alone are responsible for the quality of it. This is the day your life really begins.” -Bob Moawad

NTS

"Changes to be made.
More actions to be taken,
Less words to be spoken."

ITS NOW A LITTLE MORE CLEAR

At this age, all they want is, to do rad shit and fuck women.

YOU TELL'M

can't believe im saying this

it hasn't yet been a week, 

but i miss perth.

:-)

WATCH OUT PERTH, THE MERCH IS GON DROP.

Getting a little sick of people asking 'why Perth?' -- why the fuck not? I mean how cool is it to travel all the way up to the other end of the continent. For those of you who can't fathom this idea, there's nothing for you here.

Peace out (Y)

AS FATE WOULD HAVE IT

cool

Storyteller 

Vol. 1 

By: Anagram Davis

---

It amazes me how reality is never in line with expectations. It was believed, that it be an ordinary Friday night of music and dance. But it was everything but ordinary.

We found ourselves underneath an architectural beauty. Beneath levels of concrete and marble.
An estuary enclosed by the noisy and busy city. Here, the rhythm and bass of blues and soul reverberated around the room, whispers and occasional intoxicated exclamations hop onto the intimate gaps between the little collective of such a paradoxical crowd.

Tonight was no ordinary night. And it deserved from us nothing less than spontaneity and dare. When the only hindrance from a dream is one's own inhibition. Partner in crime at hand, we took on an oath. Aliases in place. A charade of play pretend. That's the funny thing about playing a pretense - who can tell you this isn't the real you? Poisons within reach and the sound of music palpitating through the arterial tunnel and to the meandering veins giving one the truest auditory orgasm, we were ready. I'm ready.

---

"Hey!" She called out as she caught my eye from a distance.

Stunned, I fumbled for words. Here he is, in front of me. Waiting. Waiting for me to utter those first few words of introduction. The beacon that only very few men acknowledge. That subtle and simple chivalry of speaking second. Quickly, as I gather myself, my friend was already there on a life boat. She must've seen the struggle in my eyes. Bless her.

"Guys, this is my friend Brooke."
And in that fraction of a second, I remembered. We had aliases. Fuck.
Remembering this detail seemed to help.
"Hi my name is Brooke, nice to meet you... Yea I live here... Oh yeah.... Architecture... "

Everything. Every imaginary detail came out of me as if I were painting a picture of my life and before me was an eager canvas. Tonight, that theatre we all play, that running joke that is also called our life, was playing my biggest part. And everyone was a spectator, but only one mattered - the one audience standing in front of me. I wasn't lying - I simply decorated the facts with ornaments and perfume, wrapped it in brown paper and a nice ribbon to finish.

---

Everything that came after this and before the finale of the night was both a blast and a blur.

---

And to this day, this dreary sunless Monday, I can only say that nothing good comes out of playing games. And that phrase 'What a small world!', No. Its a fucking huge world. And sometimes, a great night is best kept in that moment. The moment you seize and let go. Its important to keep it natural. Because one day, these moments... will collide.

Say those words, say those words like there's nothing else,  

close your eyes and you might believe,  

that there is some way out - j.morrison

"Even vagabonds gather." He said.
"Why? What do you mean?" I asked.
"Of course! Vagabonds, need to help other vagabonds" He exclaimed.
And with this, his eyes were filled with both relief, doubt, happiness, loneliness --- the eyes of that of a true wise man.
Then I knew how much further I needed to go.