When you don't have children, the part of your mind that would otherwise have to worry about playdates/toilet training/overdue tuition lives free and just sort of wanders around at night singing to itself and touching the darkness with its shiny eyeballs. I don't know if it is the preferable state, but personally I don't regret falling through space without spawning, especially when I look at the moon and remember that it doesn't care either way.
A lot of people (in NZ, anyway) shit on Dunedin because they imagine it's cold (it's really not- I grow tree aloes outdoors for fuck's sake) boring (everywhere is boring after a while. At least we're not taking sniper fire) and conservative (not particularly). But I realise lately that we've been taking Dunedin for granted and not sharing enough of it with you, dear readers, so we'll do a few local shoots and show you just how awesome this part of New Zealand can be.
In the fullness of time.
This is the first thing I ever posted.
We hope you enjoy what we do and post here. Traffic is really picking up this year, so I suppose some people are into it, for whatever reason. I hope it hasn't always been hideously obvious, but the blog has chronicled such a strange and painfully murky watershed in my own life that I hope by ploughing through and onward and maybe upward if not sideways, some of my blackwards-leaning peeps will feel less like unaccompanied atoms and more like part of the creepily resonant dysfunctional plasmic organism that we actually are.
I'd post this sentiment as a piece of interpretative dance but Karen does it better and has glitter. It's for the best that I leave the lamé ballerina shit to her. Believe me.
This might be a retro week full of historic thingies. Haven't done one for a while.