I'm bored with words, we're both real-world busy and plus we've taken a fucktonne of photos in the garden so that's what you're getting this week- flowers on mute. Well as mute as I ever am. It's what you get every fucking spring, I know, but I think if 2015 has taught us anything, it's that there are worse things so you'll just have to deal with it.
The Lovely R's been getting all his dodgy old lenses out and wanking on about the various properties of this one versus that, but I just nod and shut my ears because my thirst for knowledge knows no bounds.
The Lovely R's been getting all his dodgy old lenses out and wanking on about the various properties of this one versus that, but I just nod and shut my ears because my thirst for knowledge knows no bounds.
 This is the awesome hybrid Clematis Warsaw Nike. Below and to the right there are progressive zooms on the bizarre flowers that have been happening for the first time on our native Rewarewa tree, Knightia excelsa. We have three examples of this species that I grew from seed; to see these increasingly mighty organisms go forth fruitfully after having held their papery little embryos in my hand and helped them into being has all the sentimental appeal of child-rearing and none of its shit-stained fatigue and midnight regret. Trees don't smoke meth in your garage, get their sullen underaged girlfriends pregnant, hate you, get expelled from school or steal your car to impress their dipshit friends. Trees > biological children. Rewarewas are part of the whacky southern hemisphere Proteacea group which includes everything from Banksias to Macadamias (as in the highly delicious nut). Look at the beautiful copper-flecked bark; trés Japonisme.  In keeping with this week's vegetal theme I'll also be blogging my first domestic foray into cooking black rice, because I never have before and that's a fucking unacceptable state of affairs. Stay tuned. | Depressive? Angry? Withdrawn? Otherwise fucked in the head? Think you'll explode your acid blood Mr Creosote-styles if one more arsehat tweaks you the wrong way? Get a garden, seriously. If it's at all possible. Borrow someone else's if you have to or maybe get involved in your municipal/communal horticultural situation. It may seem boring, middle-aged and dully quotidian; I thought all this about gardening too until my late twenties, when I made friends with the neglected specimens lurking around my partner's inner city cottage and found them better and more rewarding company than most of the sentient objects in my life. I would have probably topped either myself or some of the many knobgobblers who've been on my figurative dick this year if I hadn't been able to go and stare at beautiful plants in silence and privacy.    |
Were we the only goths who rolled to NWA in '90? Back in the day we used to battle this shit out conversationally, walking down the street dressed like the whitest undead freaks ever, flipping off carloads of rednecks and confusing the hell out of standard-issue passers by. Yeah I'm a gangster but still I got flava :) I shouted my nephew to Yella's show in Christchurch the other weekend for his birthday; the circle is complete.
I'm so fucking old : /
I'm so fucking old : /
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