a poem about marianne faithfull, by patti smith

'I was born in Hampstead. My mother wasn’t screaming so they didn’t believe she was in labor. Later I went to convent school. Later I rode in leather. Later I took some sleeping pills. I needed to lose…'
M.F.

there is a sweetness
in your little girl mouth
and the pearls you hold
in the palm of your hand
everytime you extend that hand
you break down you fantasize
you are circumsized
agonized
scourged
crowned
crucified
pierced four times
your sacred heart bleeds
drips and drips down
women weep at your feet
twelve men turn you
twelve men desire you
(ammonia clouds your armpits)
a starfish quivers in your belly
and the arrows shake out
shake out shake out
and the muscles in your heart ache
a fish slaps back your face
you roll you roll over
in the sanctuary yards
in a coarse black dress
bless your hot virgin mouth
you would be Judas
and Christ himself
you would be Mary Magdalene
the only woman
who made our savior weep
yet you would pull mandrax in
like the sacred wafer
leave me for eternal sleep
But no. I wont let you go.
I wont let you go.no.
wont let the honey drain
from your sweet sweet box
wont let the crowds blush and gasp
while you carry your cross
wont let the flower girls fan you
hind a big black hearse
wont let the pearls
crumble crumble
from your little girl mouth

time has come today

it's the night before my first year 12 exam. i probably ought to be panicking right now, because while i tend to do quite well in english without making much of an effort, i am really a bit underprepared for this. and since it's late there isn't much i can do right now but hope for the best. at the moment i'm just waiting for the terror of this to hit me.

but the plus side is, in exactly 18 days i will be free from school. and then:
* schoolies
* blondie/the pretenders on december 1
* girls on december 10
* christmas in new york
* summer
* whole life being ahead of me etc.

ps. this song is PHENOMENAL.

my top 10 favourite 60s girl group songs

1. egyptian shumba - the tammys

2. you can't hurry love - the supremes

3. walking in the rain - the ronettes

4. leader of the pack - the shangri-las

5. then he kissed me - the crystals

6. you keep me hangin' on - the supremes

7. you came, you saw, you conquered - the ronettes

8. give him a great big kiss - the shangri-las

9. he's a rebel - the crystals

10. iko iko - the dixie cups

hitchcock blonde

i brought the following photos of tippi hedren in the birds to the hairdresser:

and she appropriated it for me so i could wear it to my friend's formal:

it upsets me that i can't wear this hairstyle every day without people looking at me funny.

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a single man

i saw it today and it is so so beautiful and sad and made me cry. movies never make me cry. except for philadelphia, i always bawl my eyes out in that one. must be something about gay men.

it also causes me actual pain to watch movies about the sixties because i love them so much and it is a constant reminder that i was 30 years too late.

oh well, next term when it's casual clothes i'm planning on having a "sixties tuesday" where i will inexplicably wear my hair in a beehive and dress like jackie o and confuse everyone. because hey, if you can't really live in the sixties, you can at least pretend to once in a while.

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my love for edie sedgwick will never die

egyptian shumba

by the tammys is the greatest song of all time. i know i tend to say that a lot, but i have literally never heard a song as kick arse as this one in my life. it's one of those songs that totally blows your mind with amazingness the first time you listen to it, like psycho by the sonics, except it's infinitely better. warner music group is a bitch so the song is nowhere to be found on youtube, but you can download it here and i really recommend you do.
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i'm not going to say anything more about it apart from the fact that it's probably one of the most progressive singles to come out of the sixties, and that's saying something.

walking in the rain

the more i listen to this song, the more i think that it's probably my absolute favourite song of all time. it's best listened to at full volume, the wall of sound will blow your mind. the beginning of the chorus still gives me chills.

hello sailor vintage fair

i bought a $5 mod dress, a $5 jesus & mary chain t-shirt and the following vinyl:

and then i came home, sifted through my dad's 45s and found leader of the pack by the shangri-la's. sometimes my life is amazing.

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apology to pink floyd

so for years and years, i have quietly hated pink floyd. i wasn't fond of progressive rock, i don't generally have the patience to listen to songs over 7 or 8 minutes (except desolation row, of course) and i just generally thought they were pretentious wanks.

however as i was watching the seven ages of rock on the abc the other night i realised that for years and years, i have been sorely mistaken.

sorry, pink floyd. you're pretty decent after all.

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but you know i know when it's a dream

ciao! manhattan

is on youtube in its entirety. go go go and hit that shit up before it gets deleted for copyright or gratuitous nudity. kind of an awful movie but edie is mesmerising as always. i took some stillz

she was sssssssso beautiful but i guess you already know that

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schedule

i think i'm putting all my whiney posts on private so this blog is fit for people i know to read

tuesday: volunteer work at op shop from 10:30 - 4:30

wednesday: picnic

thursday: seeing new moon with mes amis

friday: interview for charity collecting job

next saturday and the saturday after that: partay

i like having plans.

here are some badass pictures

jello biafra being all stripey like

dylan being gorgeousness personified, my current desktop wallpaper

steve mcqueen's badass mugshot

love it

ted bundy, the ultimate badass

slightly bemused by the total rejection

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figment

i did not realise until more than a month had gone by, but on october 2nd nat finkelstein, a photojournalist who took some of the warhol factory period's most iconic photos, passed away. below is an essay he wrote on his time in the factory interpersed with some of his most famous photos.

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the satellites.

they thought they were special; that was their delusion. they thought they were unique; that was their conceit. they thought they were indispensable; that was their downfall. lie creatures from a horror flick they emerged from the swamps of middle america crying the infectious cry of the mutant, 'i need more creatures who resemble me.' and when he had gathered his spearhead of flittering monster, ann dee ANN dee ANN DEE WHORHOL, of pittsburgh, pennsylvanis, embarked on his revolution of perversion, toys and titillation. his objectives were simple: turn the outside inside and the inside outside and after all, why not?

outside the glass was shattering, the shit was approaching the fan. inside was cherries jubilee and unlimited dollops of cream. outside was watts, hanoi, birmingham, dallas, and hairy truck drivers leaning out of their cabs and yelling 'FAGGOT…..WHORE!' inside was panna grady's. doctor feelgood's, stanley's, la mama, the village and the holy of holies, the golden ark, the temple, home plate…: the FACTORY, their home, their world, their womb. outside, JFK …golden knight with miniskirted wife…was dead: business and bombs were booming, inside the children played strange games like see me, touch me, hurt me….'ah'.

children of the rich they became sevants to the privileged and so carried servants' arrogance on their platters. they served the talented so they thought they had talent. they served the licentious so they thougth they had licence… in their playrooms they migth tie a playmate up, under a glass topped table. squat on the glass and shit…giggle giggle kakka doodgy… look look! if their hamburger was medium instead of rare they would reduce the waitress to tears. they were the children of the jet set but their world could be circumnavigated by a ten dollar taxi ride: from seven bleecker street to stanley's, by the firehouse, from doctor bishop's to panna grady's; breakfastlunchdinner at the canal street luncheonette, 6 am fresh baked danish and an egg cream or maybe a hot dog at the seventy second street dabrette's, all night service and then sleep and then seven bleecker to score again.

but seven bleecker was street and street dealers are practical folks…. 'money talks shit walks…fuck the poetry gimme cash.' and cash was the rub, cameras, radios, pretty bodies, nubile tongues and soft mouths were in abundant supply but cash was short; so it was friendly doctors and visitors from tangiers and ibiza who became their afternoon audience. amphetamines were legally available in spain and morocco and these were white middle class kids, expert at whine and wiggle…speed and delirium, reflected light of aluminium foilstars, the great new york artsy, fartsy incest crowd… 'poppa on the bottom, momma on the top, sister in the middle, yellin gimme speed, pop'

monnapoppashisterbrother fornicating in the same womb…desolation road…lost in the rain everybody talking love but nobody getting their fingers wer… sex hour in the zoo…pernutations and combinations…. and in the created chaos of this inside-out world stood bleached blond, blue contact lensed albino barnum… great genius of the twentieth century… ANDY!... ANN DEE ANN DEE! War (sigh) hol ready to lead his speedfreaks, dragqueens, dominatries, hustlers and junkies out of their new york cave and into mainstream america. DOCTOR WARHOLAS travelling medicine show ready to appear at campuses, gallery opening, museums, shopping mall inaugurals, weddings and bar mitzvahs all over the country. selling his phantasies about art, money, decadence and instant celebrity to america's children of all ages. and at the center was the factory, cavern on 46th street, the nexusplexus sucking in the rebels, dreamers, gullibles, hopefuls, manipulators, minnow and sharks: the perfect peaches praying for a bruise. ginger bread house… come in hansel, welcome gretel, oh how pretty you look, welcome welcome.

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no fun

"people like us, who believe in physics, know that the distinction between past, present, and future is only a stubbornly persistent illusion."

albert einstein

often i wish i could be more like this:

and less like this:

to the best of my knowledge, at least for a time andy warhol felt the same way

may be going clubbing soon, a state of drunkenness must be reached as soon as possible in order to feign an air of normality


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