Wednesday, September 29, 2010

tuna flakes in a coffee mug

27th November 2007.Somewhere between Australia & Papua New Guinea.

Mum was sad.She wouldn't look me in the eyes as I threw my backpack on and turned to go through Immigration.I bit my tongue to stop the tears from rushing to the surface.

Emotions are a fucking bastard sometimes,actually most of the time.

27th November 2007.Papua New Guinea.In-Transit.
 Young Fil-Oz girls flick their bleached tresses as their Filipina mothers scowl nastily at one another.All in a bid to see whos half-bred daughter is the prettiest of them all.

I sit here,crossed legged on a seat that barely accomodates my ass.My headphones injecting my ears with the Kings of Leon because I don't want to listen to them ear fucking my personal space with,"your daughter is so beautiful"..."darling you are far more prettier than those other girls"..."you should be an actress in the Philippines"...such and such.So and so.

Secretly,I want to stand on my chair and yell "Listen bitches,we're all half breds,we all usually end up looking the same and we have the same fucking accent that everybody mocks at one stage or another...move on".

Instead,I sit here,a silent cynical bitch.

The pen scrawls across the page,whilst people tap away at their laptop keys.Once again I'm the "lo-fi" idiot writing in her journal like an 18th-Century freak.

Life has made me a bitter rambler.

divisoria,walang panty!

February 27th 2008

Divisoria Moment #347:

I know everyone’s all like “don’t touch the hobo cats [and dogs], they’re dirty” and freak the fuck out when my hands skim across their dusty fur.

Sam and I were rolling through Divisoria, but stopped in our tracks as we spotted a deep fried squid vendor .To the left was a beautiful ginger and white hobo cat sitting and cleaning its fur on a little wooden box, which was covered with rubber stamps and hanging keys.

I liked that moment, whipped out my Lomo and went to “shoot from the hip”. Before I could get a 2nd shot, the key/rubber stamp man quickly got his other pet hobo cat and placed it onto the box too.

His smile spread across his face as his two precious hobo cats were being photographed. They looked at him and meowed lovingly and he proudly looked at them whilst gliding his battered, calloused fingers through their fur.



Divisoria Moment # 348:

After petting the hobo cats a little...yes, I have become more aware that they aren’t clean, but I had just been rolling around Divisoria for 3 hours and didn’t exactly feel like Miss Sanitary 2008; plus I am a firm believer that germs are awesome and without them our anti-bodies don’t become mad heroes against fighting infections/diseases/viruses etc.

 

Stabbing a wooden stick into a piece of fried squid, proceeding to dip it in vinegar and before it could reach my mouth,my delicious street treat was starting to fall off the stick. Saving it from its Divisoria earthy fate, I quickly grabbed it with my fingers and ate it with my hands as we walked through the jam packed streets.

Wiping the squid polluted vinegar off my fingers with a tissue from my bag; I stretched my arm back to offer some clean tissue to Sam.

He said “My hands aren’t dirty; I didn’t touch the squid when eating it...”

I felt the smile erupting on my face as he continued while also trying not to laugh “you touched the cat, you touched the squid”
....he paused for a moment as if to fully conceive his disgust [and amusement] in his girlfriend before igniting with “YOU TOUCHED EVERYTHING!”

Oh, you don’t know about trey chic?

Later, I accidentally squirted a packet of ketchup on my bag at Burger King.

 

Sometimes it’s fun being a 25 year old filthy kid.

Sam Smith: MAD DOGS PART 2

Tuesday, September 28, 2010

choose your own adventure.

“Just one more wave before the sun falls into the horizon, just one more...”

One afternoon at my homebreak in Australia, this crusty old surfer guy looked over at me and I smiled back at him politely. He returned the smile, spun his board around, splashed and started to paddle over. I looked at him in complete horror. It was almost 6pm; all I wanted was just one more wave for the day and not be hassled.

Deep breath.

Smile, kick board around, and face him. He sat up on his board; his thin, severely sunburnt lips opened to the words “have you been on any surf trips lately? Got any planned aye?”. I stopped for a minute to process what he’d just asked. He looked at me, waiting for an answer. I replied “I’m thinking of going to Indo or to the Philippines to visit family-friends and surf at the
same time, but the world’s kinda sketchy right now. Not too sure, why? “.


His reply – “Don’t be such a girl”

I told him that I actually have the right to “be such a girl” and which destination was he taking his arse to next. His face and tone changed to one resembling an angst-rebellious-teen –
“Anywhere I damn well please girly! Ain’t nobody gonna bloody take surfing away from me. This is my life”. He heaved his chest, spat out the salty remnants of the days saltwater consumption then turned around to catch one of the golden waves the ocean was serving up that afternoon.


I was confused by that whole moment of conversation, but on the other hand his balls-out attitude was enviable and respected on my behalf. I watched him for a while, his skin was tanned like a worn leather boot and the wrinkles on his face read like stories of his life as a surfer, maybe over exaggerating his real age.
I guess he was in his mid-50’s. He’s the kind of guy that thrives off leaving at the drop of a hat, with $10 in his pocket, 2 bananas, a hammock and the rubber slippers on his feet.


A lot of people, even myself at times are content to just take the 5 minute bike ride or 2 hour bus ride to surf your local break every single day or weekend. All the while dreaming about that spontaneous, no-frills surf trip with some buddies to one of the Philippines very own “secret spots”. Or the 5 star charter boat trip somewhere off the coast of the Maldives. You start to drift off with these thoughts of bliss, but then the fear and doubt kick in.

“What if the mosquitoes inject me with life inducing malaria?”

“What if some kamikaze militant guns me down in the middle of the night?”

“What if my cash gets stolen?”

“I can’t leave my job/loving partner/responsibilities, JUST to go SURFING!”

All of these things culminating, leading your mind to stray back to the warmth and security of home and your local break.

The old guy had a point. I was “being such a girl”. He’s probably crammed more experiences into his years than a lot of people will in their entire lifetime. Purely for that thing everybody’s heard of, but only a select few in the world know about, surfing. To be honest, I envied the guy. He’s probably in Java right now fighting off psychotic monkeys in the jungle and riding set-ups we can only imagine. Kudos to those who have the guts to throw themselves into the world with reckless abandon.

And as for me, I stayed at my home break, following the routine. It’s true that familiarity breeds contempt, but there’s a difference between contempt and just outright lying to and denying yourself.One month ago I boarded a Manila bound plane from Australia with my surfboard, skateboard, backpack and hammock in hand. No destination, no defined plans, just moments. Life, frame by frame.

Curious locals at some unsurfed spot getting more amped about fly away kickouts rather than the actual surfing. Hellish bus trips that seem to have no end. On foot through dense jungle for hours on end, finally coming out to the view of a pristine wave
bouncing across the reef without a single soul in sight. Sunburn, motorbike burns, reef cuts, stomach cramps.Bombing hills on skateboards and eating concrete as consequence. Being a stranger, but still having the local surfing community welcome you without hesitation. Hitching rides on cargo ships with 150 “3-months-at-sea-sexually-starved” sea men and being the only female onboard, just to save some cash so my travels went further. Stupid little things like this. This is the adventure I have chosen because
I love surfing, skating, art, music, travel and living. There are extreme highs and lows, but all of this drama is my fun, my love. Just like surfing was life to the old guy.


But, I like so many others sometimes forget about life. Daily routine and contentment cements its place into our hearts and minds and eventually real life just becomes background noise.
Adventure, it’s not some romantic notion. This is now, life. We only have one single shot at it. People might palm that old guy off as just another disillusioned fool, maybe he was or maybe he’s just clued into what life is really about. The simple things that surpass us everyday.Take your chance; choose your own adventure...




[An article I wrote for the Filipino surf/skate/music magazine URGE in 2004]

Monday, September 27, 2010

Java + Urkel = Monday

Monday morning a lady arrives at the front gate carrying a cardboard box.She hands it to me & it is post stamped from the US,I know what it is.

$5 & the click of a "PURCHASE" button I managed to buy myself the greatest thing ever.A Steve Urkel doll,and not just any old doll,it has a cord on the back which you pull & he laughs & snorts.AWESOME!

Urkel is now sitting on a bench in my bedroom,he's already providing me so much laughter.

I was just talking to my friend Pelican on the telefono.He's leaving for Java on Wednesday & his talk of adventuring & empty waves has made me ponder leaving on Wednesday for Java.

To Java or not to Java,that is the question.

my home

I find my peace in a force that's forever and constantly changing.On a bad day,I'll walk straight into it,clothes and all,and float on my back like a starfish.The rest of the world disappears.All I can hear is my own breathing,all I can feel is my own heart.Everything around me is moving,but finally,I am still.

The ocean never lets you down.It might surprise you,or frighten you,or challenge you,but it's always there for you.There's nothing more powerful.It's stronger than wind,than fire.You can get to know it,but you can never 100% predict it.Some days the swell will come up faster than you could ever imagine,and you'll have to battle your way outside.You'll take waves on the head over and over again,barely able to catch your breath.You'll be scared and tired,but you can't give up.If you give up in the ocean,you'll never walk out of it.So you keep paddling,keep thinking,keep moving.You find your inner reserves.And when you make it out to the lineup,you've never been so grateful.You have accepted what the ocean has offered you,and you've proven yourself in the process.It's a metaphor for life.
What you believe you can do,you can.

My love for the ocean is unconditional.It gives me everything I need-friendship,comfort,strength,refuge,food,fun.Sometimes when I'm waiting for a set,I'll dive down for a bit to enjoy the calm.I dive underwater and say my thanks.

we own the night.

Sunday 25th January 2009

Screaming down the pitch black highway, windows down and the night chill filtering through our bones, this is the night and what it does to you.

Collectively we dreadfully bellow "TOTAL ECLIPSE OF THE HEART!" followed by a beautiful duet of Brass in Pocket, "I'M SPECIAL!”, “SO SPECIAL! I GOTTA HAVE SOME OF YOUR ATTENTION, GIVE IT TO ME!” the wind madly throwing our hair in every which way direction as we giggle feverishly and sing our guts out into the shadows of the highway.

These are the moments I live for, they’re simple, and they contain one of my best friends’ and are filled with reckless abandon.

Freedom.

the little island where.



Tuesday,January 4th 2005 6:27am



My last memories of Siargao before September 2004,weren’t actually at Siargao Island itself. It was last year, checking in at Davao Airport on my way to Manila. Lugging 2 boards, a skateboard and a probably way too big backpack through the 20 metre long, fan-blown basic terminal (this was before the new, shmick terminal was opened!). I got to the check-in counter; the man with incredibly thick coke-glass eye glasses looked at me, and then looked down at my boards then looked at me once again. I put my entire luggage onto the scales and the needle spun past the baggage allowance. The coke eyeglasses man looked at me once again and smiled like he’d just won the lottery. He informed me that I had to pay just on AU$1000 for excess baggage because I was checking through to an international flight.

Knowing that my funds were limited (as per usual) I quickly hauled my bags to the side, got my keys, unlocked every bag and started throwing out unnecessary things. I was sweating from the humidity in the terminal, the contents of my bag was flying from left, right and centre. People were either staring or coming up to me and asking various questions about surfing and if I had surfed at Boracay (??). I finally got to the bottom of my bag and found a whole pile of photos, on top of the stack was one photograph which was taken exactly one week beforehand at sunrise on Siargao Island. The photograph was of a group of the local boys paddling out to Cloud 9, nobody else was out yet and the sun was just peeking over the horizon. I sat on the airport floor, cross- legged surrounded by scattered bikinis, board shorts, boards and some books and just stared at the photo and smiled.

I know, I know, it sounds somewhat like some over clich√© drama queen thing to be doing at that point of time, but that’s the effect that Siargao Island has had on me ever since I first stepped foot on that mass of earth and sand. If only the security guards understood that though, as they quickly informed me to basically haul ass because I was creating a mess in the airport.
Siargao Island 2004

Phone call back home to my Mum in Australia……
"Hey Mum, I cancelled my flight back home to Oz, won’t be coming home just yet, I have to go to Siargao for the comp"
"OK Mill, I understand. Just enjoy yourself, be careful on the reef and say hello to Marife for me".

People who are close to me don’t question my spontaneity,let alone my obsession with the island anymore, they’ve accepted it and try to support my constant efforts to get to Siargao.Random ramblings about "hey remember that wave at the Rock, man it opened up so much...BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH BLAH…." seep their way into my conversations, but I guess each time I go there everyone around me is secretly thinking "oh no, not another session of Siargao stories". Having been back from the island for almost 3 weeks now, the ramblings are still fresh.

Destination Nowhere

Walk, taxi, walk, fly, bus, fly, walk, van, pumpboat, ferry, habel-habel, walk and we were finally in our own little piece of paradise.


.....and thats as far as I got.hahahaha.


The palm tree by my window


....back to clicking away at a keyboard & looking out the window at the palm tree that takes me far away,dealing with snooty fashionistas,5-inch thick family tension,that missing feeling that hurts when you're just about to doze off every night,everyday bouts of boredom and moments of unmotivated and uninspired crisis.It's sometimes strange how the comparisons of experiences in our very own lives vary.

I only just found that article,along with a few other journal entries on my cd files today and thought "whoa...".Not that I don't go to my Pbase photo gallery every single day and check out the photos from the Philippines and smile about the memories I've collected over 9 months,but reading these actual words I've written about moments that I've experienced...sometimes it feels like I'm a totally different person,reading somebody elses journal..not my own.

It's been 3months since I was in Siargao and to tell you the honest truth,it still hasn't ALL sunk in yet.I still feel things floating around,some memories have settled in my mind whilst some still continue to float around ready to cement themselves into my memory forever.I go through this process everytime I go away.Its the only way I can paint or write.Ive never been good at drawing or writing on the spot,from what I see or feel in front of me.The majority of my paintings/writing comes from what my memory chooses to remember one month,2 years,5 years after the actual experience happened.And that's how I work,that's how I still continue to work.I guess that's why I didn't get to finish that article at that point of time.Siargao was still fresh,and while things are fresh...I'm still in that moment,still living it.

One thing I can truly write down about what I felt about Siargao 2004 was that I not only left a pair of boardshorts there,but to quote Morcheeba

"left my soul there/down by the sea/lost control here/im living free".

Ive left a part of my heart and soul there with the ocean,the islands,the people,my friends,the experiences been had and that's where I finally found where my happiness is inspired.

jungle blues

 
Monday April 6th 2009
 
 
I'm writing a Note from within the jungle.

C.W Stoneking's record JUNGLE BLUES is faintly filling my home,along with the sound of frogs croaking,the drops of rain bouncing off palm leaves & Matt stomping around upstairs in his work boots.

I'm curled up in bed by myself,safe from the mountain night chill & I couldn't feel more content than in this moment,here in my jungle home.

surfers garden


Sustainable Gardening + Surfing = EXCELLENT

This little site is ace!


And I wish I could say this was my quiver,but alas it is not.

SPROUT magazine



      SPROUT magazine

Sunday, September 26, 2010

EILLIM @ Finders Keepers

 I have a small clothing label called EILLIM.She was born a while ago now & has grown into a beautiful,independent little crazy cat. At the moment I've put a lot of my clothing design work on haitus until I get myself sorted out,so EILLIM is having a little rest.But she will return,promise.

A few months back I had an awesome little stall at the Finders Keepers markets at The Old Museum in Brisbane.If you'd like some info about EILLIM,pop along to their website because there's an excellent EILLIM profile on there.

Saturday, September 25, 2010

hello,poor

Wednesday April 8th 2009

We're not bored,just poor.

We're all so broke as fuck right now that everyone comes to my place & we draw tattoos on one another with a black marker & drink cask wine.

I forgot to tell you a story from a few weeks ago,I can't believe I forgot to tell it man!

STORY GOES...

In the psych ward,this guy walked outside and sat near me.He had a womens magazine & had it slightly folded in half.In the fold was a white substance & I watched him as he placed the magazine down on the bench & started to "cut" what someone would assume was coke,but was just merely sugar from the coffee trolley.I sat there in amazement as he cut the sugar,not pausing to look up once,but so consumed by his intentions.He cut the sugar into lines & then proceeded to snort the fucking lines of sugar.He looked up at me & said "that's fucked man".I laughed so much.

That's my story.

If you didn't know,I don't smoke.
I'm on the verge of starting to smoke right now.The past few months I seem to be surrounded by cigarette smokers,being in the psych ward,literally EVERYBODY smokes...it's their only sanity.I was the only non-smoker,well me & the 70 year anorexic lady.

I've been craving the smell of tobacco & I told a friend this,she passed me her packet of Styvos & a lighter & said "Here have one!You can do anything you fucking want!".Can I just point out that this friend is older than me & is a nurse at the psych ward.

Those are my stories.

killing yourself to live

Monday May 18th 2009

I was sitting on the curb in the carpark,sipping on the straw of my can of Diet Coke & 3 little boys ran past me.They were around 6 or 7 years old & one of them had a mean mohawk.As I sat there with my mouth full of fizzy diet bubbles,the 3 boys squabbled amongst themselves about who was going to be the dinosaur.The mohawk boy said he should be the dinosaur because his mohawk looks like a dinosaur,the boy in the batman shirt said he should be the dinosaur...fullstop,no reasoning needed.The third boy gave up straight away & said "I'm going to be Batman" before he flew & threw himself into the nearby shrubbery.
Kids are awesome like that.

the rent became whiskey

Friday May 29th 2009


A couple of days ago a lady at an organisation asked me if I was 17 years old.I replied with "No,I'm actually a lot older than 17,but I wish I was 17 again" & her reply was "Could I see your drivers license".

Yesterday my new psychiatrist asked me the usual questions & threw in "Have you been involved in any same sex relationships or are you currently a lesbian?" & I replied with "Not that I'm aware of".

Over two days I have become a 17 year old lesbian.
Excellent.

it how we roll

Thursday July 2nd 2009

i like skateboarding around the pitch black streets of my old neighborhood during a week night in the middle of winter & pretend that i'm a radical hoodrat,even though i'm a 26 year old "responsible,career-driven" woman.

one day we'll grow up,maybe.

California moments




I stood on the cracked streets of Venice Beach as she playfully hopped onto the Santa Monica bound bus, she yelled out the window to me " Millie! Buy some new pants!” referring to the ratty denim jeans that gleefully hung off my arse crack exposing sunshine yellow knickers.

My new friend was awesome & we never saw each other again.

stranger than paradise

Wednesday August 12th 2009

Sitting in the public library trying to keep my chin up so the watery snot in my nose doesn't splash all over the keyboard.I'm a classy lady in a classy world.

Somehow I've now got the flu & an unsettling feeling has burrowed inside me.

I'm alright,just uneasy.

The jungle will save me from me.

don't trust the pilgrims

Wednesday: You have taken the land which is rightfully ours. Years from now my people will be forced to live in mobile homes on reservations. Your people will wear cardigans, and drink highballs. We will sell our bracelets by the road sides, you will play golf, and enjoy hot hors d’oeuvres. My people will have pain and degradation. Your people will have stick shifts. The gods of my tribe have spoken. They have said, “Do not trust the Pilgrims, especially Sarah Miller.”

Amanda: Gary, she’s changing the words.


Wednesday: And for all these reasons I have decided to scalp you and burn your village to the ground.



.....Personal hero.

mutual weirdness






“We are all a little weird and life's a little weird, and when we find someone whose weirdness is compatible with ours, we join up with them and fall in mutual weirdness and call it love.”

travel light.


He who would travel happily
must travel light.


- Antoine de Saint-Exupery (1900 - 1944)-

mad tears + warrior lady

Thursday December 3rd 2009

I haven’t blogged in a while. Mainly because I usually blog when I’m supposed to be writing something that pays & is contributing towards my bright future. Oh well. I got asked out on a date today by a guy selling raffle tickets. Is it company policy not to date the people you’re selling raffle tickets to? He asked me about my tattoos as I filled out my name & address in the raffle ticket booklet.

Earlier I was thinking to myself that this year has been filled with so many awkward dates, messy flings & short lived relationships. And as much as almost all of them left me shedding mad tears, as the year rolls to an end, I can honestly look back & say thank fuck I encountered those guys because my heart has grown into a kicking arse warrior.

I haven't felt this emotionally strong & optimistic going into a new year as I do this year.It's my first time in over 7 years that I'll be going into the New Year as a single lady & I'm liking that,I like that I'm going into a new year alone & standing on my own two feet.Two thousand & ten has got some seriously positive juju surrounding it,I can feel it.

no,this life.

Tuesday December 29th 2009

Yesterday afternoon I skated down the road through the thick fog & the sky spitting water onto the earth.It's a surreal experience skating through fog,mainly because you cannot see a fucking thing & that is both exciting & horrible rolled into one moment.

As I skated towards the end of the road,the loose change in my pockets jangling away ready to be thrown into the lone payphone that sits at the end of my 'hood.

I was on a mission to call my boyfriend because my pet rat Pippa had chewed my phone charger,thus rendering my phone useless.

Earlier on in the day drenched in the fat rain,I chased llamas around the jungle.They chased me too,I like to think that they were playing,but I think they were more irritated that I was not giving them offerings of food.

I like these moments in my life.

Seeya 2009!

Thursday 31st December 2009.


Dear 2009,

It’s taken me a bit to figure out how to write this letter to you. Whilst everybody has been happily preparing themselves this past week for a slightly messy New Years night, I’ve been trying to think of a way to make peace with you & leave you in my past where you belong.

You’ve probably been one of my most challenging years so far & to be at your last day still alive & still hovering on the edge of sane is something I can honestly be proud of.

I thought that you weren’t providing me with change, but I just wasn’t viewing you the correct way. This entire year has been about change, realisations, growing & becoming stronger within myself. You’ve thrown countless acts of cruelty at me in the form of numerous suicide attempts, 2 drug overdoses, an arm full of thick scars, litres of blood loss, numerous 000 emergency ambulance calls , heartache for my friends & family, hours in the hospital, months in psychiatric wards, sitting in vacant rooms being assessed by people who determine if I'm sane or not, bottles of pills, a pregnancy that ultimately ended in an abortion, multiple douchebags, one guy beating the shit out of me , tears , family bullshit, mind fucking, heart fucking, numbing lows, hysterical attempts to survive, emotional storms & nearly dying from THE SWINE FLU TO TOP IT OFF!? What was with that?

As much as I want to hate on you 2009, I can’t because amongst the sea of absolute pain there have emerged some really exquisite moments & people. Along with those things, I’ve been able to confront & learn from the challenges you’ve trialled me with.My perception has changed; I’ve transformed & am still in an altered state & hopefully continue to be for the rest of my life.

So as I sit here & write to you on your last day, I’m in a completely different place both physically/emotionally/spiritually, compared to your first day & for that I am forever grateful.I am loved & I continue to love.I am not just alive,but am living.I have hope again.I am stronger.I am wiser.I'm a little mental & I love it.

You were a fucking arsehole of a year, but I can’t help but love your guts 2009.Thankyou for each & every ugly moment because in the end I was able to realise its beauty.

It was nice knowing you,but I hope to never see you again.

SEEYA 2009.

Love,Millie.

cheap & true

Tuesday July 13th 2010 8:45pm

I have forgotten how to vomit words.

Yesterday I purchased what could quite be my
47th notebook,so hopefully that many pristine,white
pages can inspire me to write some shit.

If not,I now have 47 beautiful notebooks to put my coffee cup on.

Oh! At 3am a few weeks ago I woke up & scribbled some words down
about the mighty man penis.Quality.

hula-hoops in trees

Over the years, airport waiting lounges have become one of my favourite social gathering places.


A dishevelled man with pointy ears & thin spectacles sits across from me at the airport. I watch as he attempts to show his son the finer points of how to use a Slinky correctly, a Slinky which his mother bought from the airport gift store for $37 [It was a Slinky & shiny, I had to see how much it was].

The little boy twists the flawlessly coiled metal to the point of no impeccably coiled return & it snaps. The man says nothing; he sighs & stares inanely at the grey clad column to the side of the transit lounge.

I wonder at what point in his life did he become anaesthetized to his reality and give consent to the truth that it may never change?

Thursday, September 23, 2010

emotional hemophelia.

At the moment I'm reading a book called "GIRL IN NEED OF A TOURNIQUET- Memoir of a Borderline Personality" & I'm kind of finding it hard to get into.You know how sometimes with psychology-based books you have to,ironically be in right frame of mind to be absorbed in them? I finished reading "GET ME OUT OF HERE-My Recovery from Borderline Personality Disorder" & for me,it was simultaneously amazing & intense. Throughout the book I was constantly thinking to myself "HOLY FUCK!I TOTALLY GET THAT!!",as well as feeling nauseous.

Anyways,at the start of GIRL IN NEED OF A TOURNIQUET there's a quote from another book [sorry,too many book references] "I HATE YOU,DON'T LEAVE ME:Understanding Borderline Personality Disorder" & I really liked it.Possibly because I could relate to it & also because I liked the analogy of how it was written or described.


.................................................................



"A borderline suffers a kind of emotional hemophelia;[s]he lacks the clotting mechanism needed to moderate [her] spurts of feeling.Stimulate a passion,and the borderline emotionally bleeds to death."

-Jerold Kreisman & Hal Straus, I Hate You,Don't Leave Me:Understanding Borderline Personality Disorder

Monday, September 20, 2010

Porous Walker.

Porous Walker is my crazy Californian artist friend who sends me parcels filled with awesome shit.He also did an interview with FOUR THOUSAND a while back which I just
found.

I'm glad that I popped into your head Porous!! That makes me laugh.

Sunday, September 19, 2010

helter-skelter

My best friend,Larissa AKA Larrison AKA CARISSA CRAPMAN sends me lots of funny/awesome things.

One of them she sent the other day through an email.I really liked it so I thought I would share it because I like sharing the awesomeness.

..............................................................

"Make a radical change in your lifestyle and begin to boldly do things which you may previously never have thought of doing, or been too hesitant to attempt. So many people live within unhappy circumstances and yet will not take the initiative to change their situation because they are conditioned to a life of security, conformity, and conservation, all of which may appear to give one peace of mind, but in reality nothing is more damaging to the adventurous spirit within a man than a secure future. The very basic core of a man’s living spirit is his passion for adventure. The joy of life comes from our encounters with new experiences, and hence there is no greater joy than to have an endlessly changing horizon, for each day to have a new and different sun. If you want to get more out of life, you must lose your inclination for monotonous security and adopt a helter-skelter style of life that will at first appear to you to be crazy. But once you become accustomed to such a life you will see its full meaning and its incredible beauty."

-John Krakauer-

Saturday, September 11, 2010

that drunken love bitch

I wrote this sometime last year,it's sometimes nice to read back to a time & place when I could see things from a different perspective.


.................................................................


Lately love has hoisted its ugly/pretty head in my life, not in the form of a person, but as a reality in our days. The past year I've been trying to focus more on love for all & myself as opposed to being in love with one.





My "being in love with one" efforts within the past 12 months have brought me to some pretty fucked up endings of physical wounds & emotional retardation, followed by “I’m going to stay single forever” only to throw myself back into the revolting world of love.




But maybe that’s what it all is; those periods of time where you try out “love” with a new person & even though you know its ugly love, you still tell yourself it’s as real as an exquisite unicorn frolicking over a shimmering rainbow. Oh, the beauty of self denial.




I like to see it as the love that is a drunk, hazily snoozing off its hangover in the gutters between the years of actual love. And even though it’s hideous & it injures, you still need to smile at the bitch. You need to spend some time with it in its entire foulness in order to realise that rare occurrence when genuine love does enter your life.

Tuesday, September 7, 2010

life,it rents us.

As life gets longer, awful feels softer
Well, it feels pretty soft to me

And if it takes shit to make bliss
Then I feel pretty blissfully



[Isaac Brock,I still love you man.]

Monday, September 6, 2010

living on the outskirts of awesome





Lately I've been looking through old photos from living overseas,traveling overseas or road tripping & running amok in Australia from the age of 16 through to 25. Everything used to be so spontaneous,days filled with laughter,sunshine & usually an injury of some kind from a stupid,but hilarious decision been made.

I miss those days of insanity.I miss the adventure & living out of my backpack.I miss meeting different people with different stories.I miss being thrown out into the world & flourishing.
I miss being fearless & thriving on the anticipation of the unknown.I miss the passion that consumed me & wouldn't allow me to sleep because I wanted to do so much in my life.

I miss being awesome.I used to be awesome,I believed I was awesome,but now I don't believe it,nor do I feel it.



Every single day now I force myself to participate in life,but I don't really have any passion behind it.It's just staying alive,but not living & that really bothers me.

A fresh new day greets me,I roll over in my bed & I wish I could give a shit,even just a little bit.

I miss me.

crazy bird

The other week I found the cutest cotton fabric with a simple olive/white/black print of birds & trees.A couple of nights ago I finally made it into some totes.

I've made 2 & they're both up for sale.

The bags are lined with recycled fabric & inside there's a pocket to stash the things you don't want to rummage for.

There is also a big vintage button with cord that wraps around it so yerrrr stuff doesn't fall out everywhere.

The bags are approx. 34 x 37 x 5 cm & the straps are 53 cm long. 

There are only 2 of these totes available & are selling for $40each.

LOVE!!!
millie


heart cooks brains.

I'm selling 10 Limited Edition prints of the HEART TREE painting I did a couple of years ago. 

They're printed on 220gsm A4 size Canson superior quality fine tooth white paper & are individually signed & numbered.Each print comes in a matt plastic cover to protect it during shipping.

Prints are $15 each.

LOVE!!!!