December 31, 2009

Mad Love, 2009


Buenos Aires through the Facehunter's lens

Last words from 2009, Buenos Aires. We're ushering in a new decade, with all the exciting possibilities that that entails. A chance to begin afresh on a whole other level. I've had the most wonderful holiday here, my only regret is not having brought my camera, so all the pictures will have to remain in my head, unshared. Everyone seems so gorgeously excited about a new year, except for myself. Probably because this (school) year hasn't turned out exactly as planned - and all the new opportunities seem like chances for failure rather than success. But I'm not going to end the year on a bad note, so after celebrating tonight like a madcap mad cat - let's hope the first action of twentyten is one of change!


Now go forth and fill your veins with joy, warmth, love and champagne!

December 09, 2009

Volver

Only seven more days till I get to escape to another hemisphere, another season. I can't wait for the humidity, the heat, the noise, the music, the endless nights, the tattered boulevards and cemeteries, the theatre, the bars, the glorious family, friends and strangers that await me there. The energy of 15 million people. Buenos Aires, Paris of South America.

The hardest substance of the purest pain

I feel like I've been on mute for far too long. All the colour drained out, like undersaturated photographs from the 80's. That's what I've been doing now. Looking at pictures of my parents when they were young and full of oxygen and dreams, wishing I'd known them then. Reading the Penguin Book of American Verse instead of writing long overdue essays, eating junk food and watching too many movies. I want fireworks. Colour and Emotion and Excitement - all capital letter madness. Watermelon seeds and frozen ice Saturdays, sticky taxi seat leather and hot red dust raindrops. Cold beer at corner kiosks, 3 a.m, neon blue lollipops and blackened feet.

November 30, 2009

Celluloid Escape

"En Kärlekshistoria" (literally meaning "a love story") is Roy Andersson's 1970 debut film about teenage love, and its as beautiful as it was when I watched for the first time as a seven year old.




Another movie which hasn't been hyped to death on the blogosphere and which I'm dying to see is Lone Scherfig's "An Education". Peter Saarsgard is always dope, and Carey Mulligan is such a gem, reminds me a little of Jena Malone.



October 01, 2009

Nineteen Ninety Eight

Bubble gum flavoured, power pop nostalgia. When the lights in our heart blinked as furiously as those in our sneakers, when Baby and Posh and Ginger sang their sticky commercial dance tracks to us, and we loved them for it. When Johnny still loved Winona and we were true. Hurt was hurt, anger was anger and joy was joy. Before we were taught to feel shame we were bratty liars, story-tellers, playground bullies, sandbox lovers. The days were long and evenings were fluorescent jelly fantasies, storybook glories. Sometimes I miss you, 1998.

September 06, 2009

Devouring

If you ever have ninety minutes to spare, spend them watching "Etoiles: Dancers of the Paris Opera Ballet, Class, Rehearsals and Snapshots". Nils Tavernier spent three months in 1999 filming the ballet company, and has created one of the most beguiling documentaries I've ever seen. I wasn't expecting to love it, but there was something about these dancer's lives, the disciplined austerity contrasted with the glamour and prestige of their careers that did it for me.

August 31, 2009

"This too shall pass"


I want to be a person with a story. I want to be warm, glowing, exude the kind of golden heat that some just do - they drip in viscous honey.Throaty happy. No more quiet little tragedies by bedside tables, no more false romanticism, no more pretence, no more clammy hands and pins and needles. Truest true, white blood heat that cuts through your bones. Expectations. Not knowing what one wants at seventeen, they look at you like you're a slacker brat. So one just rambles on, quietly, painfully. I grit my teeth and give myself headaches and worry. Thank you, alexander supertramp, cristopher mccandless - you break my heart. One cannot live off hope and beauty, but I still want Alaska. I want Alaska with you. You called for for the first time in 14 months. To tell me it would be Georgia. You coughed your dry little coughs, I could tell you were nervous. But we were so young, and so giddy. And today, nothing. I didn't feel your fingers drumming my skin, I didn't feel your lips on my collarbone. You provoked nothing. And I wished you the best on your new adventure and you told me about Atlanta. And we laughed and said bye, letting you hang up first. When the phone line clicked I knew I would never speak to you again. And I push forward, long strokes, muscles taught in turquoise water, summer incandescent in my veins.

p.s: superbomba's photostream on flickr is gold