nice things for ears.

August was good but strange. felt all over the place like the weather. made a little playlist.  

nice things for ears. august edition.  

some old.  some new.  mostly kinda lo-fi.  mostly good.


click le link below if you want and if you have spotify privileges.

a u g u s t 


1.   Desert Fun - The Mayfair Set                            
2.   Neon Jesus - Crocodiles                             
3.   Bring Me The Head Of Paul McCartney - BrianJonesTownMasacre
4.   Angela - Jarvis Cocker
5.   Ruins - O Children
6.   Echoes - The Rapture
7.   Into The Heart - Mirrors
8.   Last Light - Converge
9.   Sarah83 - Harrys Gym
10.  For Those Who Swung Hips - Tired Irie
11.  Don't Be Gone For Long - Callum Read And The Books
12.  Were So Cool - Au Pairs
13.  Bela Lugosi's Dead - Bauhaus
14.  Ambulance vs. Ambulance - Blood Brothers

summer rags.

well bored of the summer rags now.  but seems fine. 

vince.

its right fucking here. yeah.

we wear a lot of black or something

we like wearing black to look like goths.  not to look slimmer.

park times

The occassion, celebrating pals birthdays with Pimms, homemade scones and cucumber sandwiches.

The setting, already far more civilised than the usual park times and the 3 C’s, cider, crisps and cigarettes in London Fields. Blankets laid out upon one of the grassy verges in the beautiful Rose Gardens in Regents park. Surrounded by roses, named all lovely, romantic, strange things.

A civilised time was being had by all.  That was until a suggestion, we move out onto the green with the intention of some group fun, Rounders and Frisbee.

And admittedly being the heels in the park kind of girl I am, I was worried.  A chunky wedge platform heeled type shoe, mind.  Even so this presented me a problem that I dont usually incur, because playing sports in the park hasn't been on the agenda since those pre-teen, organised, wholesome fun, family imposed times.

But luckily organised games require organisation and so in the lazy late afternoon sun what we actually ended up playing wasn't sports at all it was a homage to playground days and innocence in the form of leap frog and the okey kokey.

I was of course bare foot, must I hasten to add.

A group of 20somethings playing party games a strange sight to behold I’m sure, but surprisingly brilliant fun, its always the stupid silly things right?

pretty.

lovely but inpractical. seems fine.

i want a nice house to put flowers on the steps of. so pretty.

 read a nice article about aspirations such as these in the Evening Standard yesterday, 23rd August, 2010.http://www.thisislondon.co.uk/lifestyle/article-23869885-how-the-age-of-the-grown-up-is-now-taking-centre-stage.do

quite thoughtful. and quite true i thought.

[[[ALLWORK]]]

 

 
a usual saturday afternoon gallery jaunt is not often inviting by it's hosts, generally bordering on pretention rather than welcoming with open arms. So i was pleasantly suprised by my reception to [[[ALLWORK]]]. An impromptue exhibition in a house,  curated around the living space of four boys, by one of said boys and his pal.  


pleasantly surprising. and seems fine.  


thoughtful pieces selected to suit the home surroundings.  The work, not familiar but not out of place, yet still arresting enough to draw you in and forget the face. Previwing these pieces out of sorts to the gallery norm.

some lines on paper

i'll cry you a river... you probably won't care.

by me today.xx

what happened to our times.

 This is about me and you not being me and you anymore.

another weekend. another field.

This weekend saw me and Jo King at another field based music event. Little London Fields Festival.

Like a normal Saturday in London Fields but with louder music and more wankers.

Jo King and I may have discovered a new favourite beverage. Cherry Cider. Being ridiculously partial to cheap cider anyway, usually of the strongbow variety, this little discovery made the day for us.

Cider for girls.

We started on cans and on deciding it was a hit we purchased bottles of the sticky toxic red stuff. At £1.29 for a can and £2.29 for the bottle. It would be silly not too.

Also this was nice. Can grave yard outside of the loo queue. Qualitly Drinking.

Our day was peppered with sunny spells and showers. Huddled under trees with stolen umbrellas. Bad dancing to UK Garage circa 2001.

Also my new favourite band Mirrors headlined the 'main stage'.

The track Into the Heart is a big fave and you can check them out here.

F i e l d D a y T i m e s

shopping for jokes at field day: denim shorts, stripey tees and fake raybans. coincidental, accidental outfit coordination. seems fine.

a week by the sea.

I love my busy London life for all the reasons everyone and anyone loves London but in the same breath it is those very same reasons, that it can get on top of you. I knew I was due a breather.

Not even an especially stunning coastline or beautiful beach, my week at home, by the sea, was perfect. I am more than sure that's got more to with my rose tinted glasses and buckets of nostalgia connected with the place as opposed to the actual place but seems fine.
Sat on the beach on a Friday morning, so smug, almost guilty, thinking about everyone at work. Time stood still:

Ice creams at dusk. Catch-ups with old pals, small town talk. Sifting through the pebbles and stones, picking out favourites, for keeps. Stolen moments with an Ex boy, driving on country roads up to the cliffs with playlists from the past. Having a little smile about the ‘Scene-y’ girls and boys getting it so wrong but trying so hard. Are we still talking about this? Same old petty disagreements with the mother bear.

Yep, a week at home, just enough before you start to remember why you upped and left in the first place. Sadly, the crisp, salty, seaside air can only mask so much.
Seems totally fine.

smells like teen spirit.

the james cleaver quintet.

listen to these boys be a little bit angry.

http://www.myspace.com/thejcq

then buy there EP, ten stages of a make up.



The JCQ, Photo Copyright Doc Foster 2009.

is it just me or is...

boys wanting to chirps you over Facebook. not cool.

hitting it off with some one, you know the usual combo; talking, flirting and general bantering. and then for natural reasons your conversation comes to an end – say one of you is leaving perhaps. he whips out his phone and your thinking ‘hey, hey’, this boy is going to ask for my number, but as your thinking this and doing a little victory dance in your head. he says ‘can I take your surname?’ innocently, possibly naively you ask ‘umm, why?’

he answers, with the dreaded killer, of all things romanticised, innocent and lovely: ‘so I can add you on Facebook!?!’

by this point your thinking 'but you have your flipping phone out to save my surname, why not just flipping take my number?! for flips sake'

you then reply all cool and casual ‘I don’t have Facebook’

but to this he then replies even more casually ‘I’ll probably never see you again, then.’

BRILLIANT. has he really just wasted both your times to, for the want of a better phrase, pussy out like that at the last moment?

yes. yes, he has.

you're then all ready to forget this awkward little incident, to put it down to that age old fact of it not being meant to be. when it happens again, only 2 weeks later with a different boy. completely the same scequence of events down to the line ‘I’ll probably never see you again, then’. which I’m starting to think could possibly be the next 'it’s not you, it’s me' or something tragic like that.

why should you give someone access to your Facebook page, where's the mystery in that? 
mystery, the one perfect thing about meeting someone new.

your favourite films, music, interests, friends and pictures all available for him to peruse at his leisure: all there for him then to still decide perhaps to never contact you. because he said it himself already the night you met, he’ll probably never see you again, anyway.

SAVE YOUR MYSTERY IF NOTHING ELSE.

this all seems un fine.

a really long walk.

Inspired by my recent twilight trip to the Tate Modern, I wanted to recognise one of the works I saw, As long as I am walking… by Francis Alÿs. (Saturday's late night opening hours provide perfectly spontaneous civilised times, and a stark contrast to the usual ridiculousness). The exhibition, A Story of Deception is one of the strongest shows I’ve seen this year. It’s on until the 5th of September – GO AND SEE IT.

Although probably rife with context and deep meanings I just really enjoyed the kooky drawings, installations and short video works that weren’t just aesthetically lovely but tinged with humour. (But I would recommend checking this link out to read a proper synopsis as not sure I’m really doing the show justice).

It is a very endearing exhibition and a bit of an underdog running alongside the more obvious, Exposed... photography exhibition, which has had more of a buzz about it, which I quite frankly thought was rather mundane.

So anyway in tribute, I went on a really long walk today and I didn't do any of the below. Seems fine.

Francis Alÿs, As long as I am walking, 1992

because everyday is a party.

you gotta have bedroom bunting.