A Sudden Increase in Shark Attacks PT.2

This time off the coast of Facebook chat.

"Haai Lauren. HAAAAAAAI!"

"Oh, like haai..."

You can't say she wasn't warned.

"How goes?"

Shark mouth, ajar, connects with arm.

"Cool and you?"

Arm pops off. Floats bashfully by.

"Fine, just been busy."

Blood. Blood. For God's sake, blood.

"Yeah me too. Anyway, gotta run!"

"Bye!"

"Baai."

Dead.

A Sudden Increase in Shark Attacks PT.1

In the Bay of Oppikoppi


Boy: "Haai!" *waves*

Girl: "Haai?" *doesn't hear the Jaws ringtone from the pants next to her, screams a smile and waves back with flaying hand*

The crowd comes in.

Boy: *smiles*

Girl: *has no face left to smile with*

Dead.

Sounds like Corlett Drive

The most striking thing about moving house is the myriad of new sounds that keep you awake at night. And by 'striking' I mean lashing cowbells infused with the maniacal laughter of drunk hobos blended with the deep errs of salmon-shirt-wearing boets, not to mention the eggbeater bat out of hell occasional motorbike and down tempo drag racing, infused with the soulful grooves of delivery trucks. This album comes in a box set.

Corlett Drive is the loudest, most obnoxious street in Jo'burg. Corlett Drive is an asshole. Corlett Drive is the Comic Sans of streets. 

To get an obsequious word in while I can still hear myself think (this is bound to change in 0 to 4 seconds), I lay before you a collection of limericks chronicling my gradual hearing/sanity loss.

Gotye in the Citi 1.4

                                        

One night while lying in bed,

Somebody that I used to know came into my head.

The beat was now techno,

From car speakers of woe;

One more time and I’ll be dead.

Pinkie Fest Aftermath (Andiccio Edition)

One day while reading a book,

Three loud men heckled the pizza ‘kok’.

All clad in pink,

“Fok julle spilled ‘n drink!”

The window’s begging me to look.

Garbage Collection

One night quite late I went down to the bins,

To throw some rubbish away for my sins.

A sudden ROAR! from the garbage truck

Made my lil’ heart go cluck-cluck-cluck,

And now I only go down before dins.

Blue Light District

In the dead of the night I came home from a bar,   

I climbed into bed and heard noise from afar.

WHOO! WHOO! said Mr Hungry (hi)Po-Po

“Oh no”, said Drunkie, “to jail I won’t go!”

Grateful am I I’m not in that car.

Bat out of Hell

Every AM at the exact same time,

At a quarter to six we hear the ol’ chime.

The motorbike with broken exhaust,

Backfires under my window (of course),

And now no more sleep can be had so I whine.

Prossie Power

Sometimes, during the Witching Hour

A woman can be heard, her voice hollow and sour.

From a car she steps out,

Adjusts her skirt all about,

And click-clocks back to her street tower.

An Ode in Ink

My friend Cayley and I recently got tattoos together. This was her first tattoo, a gift from me to her for her 21st, but also a symbol of our friendship - having met years ago in the punk scene, we decided to commemorate our 'punk years' by both getting lyrics from the same band we loved growing up, and still love madly today - The Distillers.

Cayley and I were once listlessly driving home from a party in Pretoria the night before, hungover, thirsty for Creme Soda and recoiling from a night being played back in our heads. We were exhausted, and were sitting in comfortable silence listening to music; the windows open, catching the spring breeze. The Distillers' Dismantle Me came on and we both immediately perked up, and with smiles that had replaced our idle lips, began singing our hearts out. There were two lines that seemed to stick with us: "Dismantle me" and "the sky is deeper than a dream". We looked at each other and in almost perfect unison like Jessica and Elizabeth from Sweet Valley, declared how these lyrics would make great tattoos. We marveled. We got excited. Then we spent the rest of the trip home toying with which line we liked more.

Fast forward almost a year and we found ourselves at Tattoolya one Saturday afternoon.

Our friend Mica did the tattoos for us; beautifully and delicately like only a girl can. She was the final link in the chain. We all met in the same scene, and Mica is also a Distillers fan (in fact, her first tattoo she ever got is also comprised of their lyrics), so it felt right that she be our tattoo artist.

Cayley and I both wanted to bring across the ease of simpler times, and incorporate where we are in life now - we are both writers, so decided to go with a typewriter font each. Simple but relevant. 

I went with Courier. I fucking love Courier. 

The conclusion of our car-ride debate was finally revealed and laid to rest in ink: she got Dismantle Me. on her shoulder, and I got the sky is deeper than a dream on my leg.

Fresh ink.

Slow & Steady Mixtape

It's one hell of a miserable Wednesday, but the air smells like rain (delicious) and I have butterflies for some unknown reason.

So in honour of the start of spring (if this were a black comedy), here's a moody, sultry mixtape of down-tempo rock 'n roll, best listened to from within the bed covers.

For the poor fuckers at work, remember slow and steady wins the race; just a few more hours till home time and a glass of red.

Here it is: slow & steady 

Punk Rock Mixtape

With my newfound discovery of Grooveshark, and with all things shiny and novel, I've made another Mixtape.

It's a mish-mash of all the music I grew up listening to, and in a Black Label-soaked instant can whip me back to the Thrashers days with people who have probably gotten married, immigrated or passed away even.

To the rest of you I'm still in contact with: thanks for all the good times. 

Those of you who have traded in your sleeveless band shirts for neck ties (growing up shmowing up), have a little listen at work and take a skank with me down memory lane. In theory at least.

Here it is: PUNK ROCK L<3VE 

Sowing Music

So wow, this was AGES ago. lil' bow (that's me) was fortunate enough to DJ at Sowing the Seeds earlier on in the year - it was an amazing festival and a warm up event for Rocking the Daisies (which is taking place this October in Cape Town). 

This was my first big DJ experience and I had so much fun! Why have I decided to flog the horse of history? Well, because I've finally figured out how to make Mixtapes to share the songs I love/DJ. 

Today I discovered Grooveshark and oh lawdy, it has made me happy!
I've been looking for an application like this for months, one that is easy to use for someone technologically-impaired like me, but also quenches my basic need: playlist sharing. 

So without further ado, my Sowing the Seeds Mixtape. 
This will be the first of many. Enjoy... 

Don't get blogged down.

Because I have.

Everywhere I turn, there is someone trying to belt out their new blog. And the ones people take notice of are the blogs that are updated constantly. Prolific people I tell ya. It takes dedication. And possibly a day job that really does end at 5-sharp. Have I seen a lot of fantastic blogs lately? Yes. Have I felt intimidated? Yes.

It's no wonder I'm the Internet's next blogger sensation (she says while skirting her eyes away from her last blog post, dated MONTHS ago. Skirting eyes now roll).

I guess this is an apology.

To make up for my silence, here's a toy I've been playing with lots and lots and, despite being an only-child, am willing to share.

Not all of us have PhotoShop or know how to use it. So for rookies like me, Pixlr is a flippin' great, FREE picture editing toy to have. You can do things like this:

Take an existing photo...

A Sober Moment: Mandy and I at Oppikoppi, basking in the dappled shade.
Picture by Angela 

And spruce it up (or down even)...

Ta-da! Mandy and I still at Oppikoppi, still basking in the vintage-looking dappled shade.

Enjoy playing x

VINTAGE IS THE NEW BLACK

I love this girl's style. I love this blog. I just love her. Grrl crush!

We all know there's a major vintage revival happening and you can swing the word 'hipster' around like a dead cat, around and around. And around. And... arou. No, it's starting to hum. 


New subculture and buzz word to cite relentlessly please?


Noirohio Vintage's 'VINTAGE IS THE NEW BLACK' tagline resonates with me, less in a trendy I wear vintage because I'm anti-mainstream way and more in a don't pay out your ass for clothing, it's just material, there's already so much of it to go around, if we reuse a little instead of making new shit every time, our planet might thank us (a little) way.


What sets Noirohio Vintage apart for me is two things:


1. It's vintage with a rock 'n' roll edge. 


Ala tattoos, leather pants, leopard print and a Bettie Page do.

But elegant. 

And not too theatrical (which I feel punk/psycho often becomes). Wear your clothes, don't be worn by them. You don't need to be a parody of yourself.

Just classic, good clothing with your own style, personality and accessories peaking through. That's what I'm going for these days (or trying to, budget and hoarder mentality permitting).

This style appeals to me as someone who's kinda evolving and growing up in the overarching 'alternative' scene - it's nice to be edgy ('edgy', really Lauren?) without being pigeon holed into one specific genre like "Oh, she's so punk"; "She's so rockabilly". I still love those styles (and music) and wear elements of them, but can't just be that one defining thing anymore. 


My roots still anchoring me, I did a little more skim research and after reading Noirohio Vintage's influence list on Facebook here, and seeing that The Smiths, The Clash and Johnny Cash are listed, I was sold.

This style reminds me a lot of Sophomore - another fashion house I LOVE for the same reasons.


Check out their lookbook video with music by The Virgins:

2. There's a difference between looking cool and looking pretty.


Sure, you may wear the crazy, shapeless, washed-out thrift store clothes that don't fit your body, only to be accosted by your nu wave page boy haircut, and sure, you look cool as hell. Intimidating even. Like an extra from a movie. But do you look pretty? Sometimes when it's all thrown together it's too much, like you're typecast to play a certain role and you really desperately need to look the part. It's a ridiculous amount of effort.


It's hard to be both, something's got to give. If you can get the balance just right, it's magical. Otherwise it's just too much I talk to pigeons and they talk back cray-cray. 


When clothes are distracting and misleading it sucks. When clothes are a costume it sucks even more.


Noirohio Vintage piques my interest because the clothes don't compete with the models' natural beauty - they've maintained their classic good hair, clean make up, ladylike finishes (no androgyny here) which I think builds the case for the clothes (and the person) even more.

Of course we don't all look like this majestic wonder of a female (I'm addressing the brunette bombshell) and can't all comfortably pull off (or put on) leather skinnies, but I feel like she's at least not trying too hard. Lies. Okay but her finishes are at least timeless. Same with the blonde fatale. If you're going to have the crazy hair/make up, then your clothes don't need to compete - it's enough already. Or if you maintain a relatively normal look - go batshit with your clothes and accessories. Whatever.

Or just, you know, ignore me (I feel like there's hypocrisy lurking somewhere, ready to bite  my Mr Price ass).


This is my opinion anyway. I'm 24. I'm striving for balance. I'm trying to figure out this new life phase (and what the hell to wear in the morning).


If you're all ra-ra blog, I strongly recommend you visit http://noirohiovintage.blogspot.com/ or go to their actual website or just like them on Facebook. Or better yet, buy some of their clothes on ebay here.

More! If you Google image search them, it's a closet of well-dressed, non-sloppy Suicide Girl types. And new (old) outfits I haven't seen on the blog before! Do it!

Bravo team! x

Kindling Review

Cape Town based artist Bruce Mackay exhibited Kindling at Wolves in Jo’burg for the month of February. I went to check out the opening night (3 February).

I stepped into Bruce’s quaint world of delicate line work, forestry, birds, tree-sailor people (you betcha) and antique keys.

Like peristalsis, I strode across the room to inspect two pieces that promptly caught my eye. The attraction came in the form of two lino prints, beautifully laser cut into wood. 

One of the two linos. 

The detail and craft in these pieces made me so happy. I got that warm fuzzy feeling of antiquity, of the ‘old world’ where I imagined Bruce as a flannel-wearing, bearded woodcutter, handcrafting works of art from his cottage HQ; fire place crackling, birds singing the theme song of ‘The Sound of Music’… Sigh, handcrafted goodness (and sleep deprivation).

 “Those would make rad tattoos, shotgun?”

This is the first thing I said when I made eyes at a man and woman illustration pair done in pen and ink, with their feral, ‘I’ve come from the sea but been lost in the woods for a long long time and can speak to trees and animals’ look about them. Their faces, old and weathered with the sense of wisdom and sadness that comes with time - would make amazing characters in a graphic novel. Or look great on my forearms. Either way, I loved them.

Kindling as a whole comes down to balance: gentle intricacies in the illustrations that aren’t fickle or flimsy. Art that’s striking but doesn’t have to shout or shock to get your attention. 

And the very name ‘kindling’ – something as small and insignificant as little sticks and twigs, when bunched together and ignited, can start a raging fire that can wipe out an entire forest. The art is pretty; nature is harsh. Balance.

Barring the Old Mother Hubbard of parties just 10 km away (Jozi Fest), and that there wasn’t the usual Friday night bustle and drink hustle at Wolves (which is a damn shame), Kindling was well worth checking out. To balance that out however, I know full well that any ensuing Thursday night would've made up for the lack of attendance. Ten fold.

You can check out more of Bruce's delightful work here and here.

Images by Chris Corbett