tarantulatrash

Who reads this??

Posted in art, art melbourne, culture, life, lomo, lomography, love, melbourne, photography, Uncategorized, writing by tarantulatrash on April 7, 2010

Lomo LC-A+

I’m getting from 100-250 views a day, and about 10-15 people have commented on my blog, total. I’m really curious as to who the other people are who are following my outbursts of bullshit and creativity. If you follow my blog regularly, could you comment this blog? I’m just really curious as to who the other 100 people are. I’m sure they’re not a different hundred every day.

I’m off to Melbourne now, to see my lovely friends, drop one particularly lovely friend off at the airport, do an NDT course, work at the hospital and go to Kerry’s “High Tea” birthday party. I’ll be back Sunday, with photos.

My Diana Mini has been held up in postage apparently, but I’m saving the Velvia and Sensia for it. Agfa attack this weekend. Book to read on the train this week- Albert Camus, “The Plague.”

69 days.

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Once upon a time

Posted in life, literature, love, religion, Uncategorized, writing by tarantulatrash on April 4, 2010

Jamie wrote a blog about me. He’s incredible. I am so, so lucky.

The other half of my duprass.

Back home.

Posted in art, art melbourne, culture, life, literature, lomo, lomography, love, melbourne, photography, Uncategorized, writing by tarantulatrash on April 3, 2010

Tonight I am at Geoff and Kerry’s. Kerry is cleaning, I’m drinking a green apple UDL and trying to decide whether or not I have enough energy to go and get pizza. Geoff is watching “Teen cribs” and Chani is trying to dye her hair without turning her neck black. I finished “Slaughterhouse 5” today by Vonnegut.

In other news, I fell in love all over again last night. Although, that happens most days. Jamie.

Everything was beautiful, and nothing hurt.

Poets and Thieves

Posted in art, art melbourne, culture, life, literature, lomo, lomography, melbourne, photography, Uncategorized, vintage, writing by tarantulatrash on April 3, 2010

This was taken outside my friend Nathan’s shop,  Poets & Thieves, Victoria Ave, Albert Park in Melbourne. It’s a gorgeous little second-hand bookstore run by very good people. Nathan found for me a first edition Green Eggs and Ham, complete with a kid’s drawings all through it with white-out. The child was coincidentally called “Jamie”. It now takes pride of place on my bookshelf.

an antisocial commentary.

Posted in art, culture, indie, life, literature, philosophy, Uncategorized, writing by tarantulatrash on April 1, 2010

[THE FOLLOWING IS A SMALL EXCERPT OF A LONGER PIECE I AM WORKING ON]

He opened the black moleskine and printed the words in lower-case.

“antisocial commentary.

she has the lyrics of “meat is murder” meticulously and illegibly scrawled onto her forearm with a sharpie. she smokes pink elephants halfway down and stifles her gagging with san pellegrino. she hopes to find someone here she can be dependent upon but they must have wealth and taste and culture and street cred and tattoos of obscure concepts in obvious places. in her mind he sees her across the room, she glances and does a walt-disney-esque bat of the eyelids and he is instantly hers. he takes her to his sharehouse in the inner northern suburbs and puts a hat on the doorknob to prevent the seven housemates wandering in while he has her bent over a cardboard cutout of the great robert zimmerman and watches himself in the mirror. they smoke a joint afterwards and ash into a plastic water bottle. he offers her some food knowing that there is none, and knowing she will decline because she looks like she has never eaten. he is bored and wants her to leave immediately. she is complete and has her life with him planned out. he’s gotten his load off and so has the guy in the bedroom next door. “

Where is Dick? Dick is Rick.

Posted in culture, humour, life, literature, Uncategorized, venting, writing by tarantulatrash on March 31, 2010

Today I bought my little sister her own copies of the “The Faraway Tree” series by Enid Blyton. Tonight, we sat down and she read me the first two chapters. I WAS SHOCKED AND APPALLED.

Not at my sister’s reading ability, or the actual story, but the names of the characters have been changed!!! MY BELOVED DICK AND FANNY NO LONGER EXIST!!!!

These are changes I am aware of-

  • “Dick” has now been replaced with “Rick”  (Due to the obvious slang association).
  • “Fanny” is now “Frannie”. Dear God. We all know why this is.
  • “Jo” is now “Joe”- because apparently Jo is a girl’s name now.
  • “Bessie” is now “Beth”. That is just pointless.
  • “Dame Slap” – who used to use corporal punishment on naughty children is now “Dame Snap”, and she simply yells at people. I’m guessing this was to avoid promoting corporal punishment.
  • Instead of saying things like “Good gracious!” , “I say!” and “Why, it’s simply ENORMOUS!” Joe now just says “Wow” a lot. That makes me want to kill myself.
  • Mother packs the children doughnuts in the new version. In the old version, they got sandwiches, chocolate cake and apples, and it’s quite likely that doughnuts didn’t even exist.
  • Instead of looking “fine” dressed as a clown, Fanny (Frannie) now looks “the real thing.” SPEW

This is political correctness gone mad. The book has lost so much of its charm, and I’m sure Enid Blyton would be rolling in her grave. I’m sure there are other changes, if you know of any, please let me know so I can add them.

ARGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

Perhaps if I stop thinking, it will stop counting.

Posted in art, culture, life, literature, lomo, lomography, philosophy, photography, Uncategorized, writing by tarantulatrash on March 30, 2010

 

 

I feel somewhat like a zombie today. I speak to people, and look them in the eye, but I’m not really looking. I look beyond their faces, through distance, and through them. My mind is somewhere entirely different. I don’t exist here. Maybe I don’t care. Maybe I like it. Maybe I’m just talking shit.

I’ve started to read again. Today I wandered around Hobart and bought the works of Oscar Wilde, Slaughterhouse 5 by Kurt Vonnegut, A Short History of the World by H.G Wells and the poems of T.S Eliot. Yesterday I read Cat’s Cradle by Vonnegut. I can’t stop, and I haven’t felt like this since I was about 13, and had to go to the optometrist because I was “over-reading.” I’d read all of Dickens by the age of 12.

I didn’t read, at all, my entire way through university. I guess this is because I would read about the anatomy of the cerebrum, then about the cause of Parkinson’s disease, then about research methods, then about what ever who-gives-a-fuck topic they gave me next. I hated reading, and I hated books.

I’m excited by this newfound love I have. Let’s hope it lasts, because I’d love to regain my vocabulary.

I also nabbed four (1 year)  expired Agfa 200 films for $4 each, a 200 fuji slide expired by a year, and 6 month out-of-date fuji chrome 100. I’m going to save them for the new Diana mini I’ll be picking up as soon as I get back to Melbourne.

I got an LC-A+ film developed today, but I can’t scan any until I get back from Tassie. It was a 400, and the photos aren’t particularly interesting, but there are a couple of good ones of friends.

I’m sitting in a Library, and there is a timer in the corner. I have 14 minutes. Perhaps if I stop thinking, it will stop counting.

Stained glass novels.

Posted in art, culture, life, literature, lomo, lomography, paris, photography, religion, Uncategorized, writing by tarantulatrash on March 29, 2010

I despise organised religion. However, I find some of its creations stunningly beautiful.

I decided this morning to write a novel. I don’t care if no one reads it. It will say what I want it to say. So far, I have an idea, a protagonist and an ending. I’m fairly sure the rest is just filler.

Stay tuned for excerpts!

why tarantulatrash?

Posted in art, culture, literature, music, philosophy, rock, Uncategorized, writing by tarantulatrash on March 29, 2010

I get asked a lot why my blog is called “tarantulatrash”-

The original idea came from one of my favourite pieces of writing, “Tarantula” by Bob Dylan.
Tarantula is a book of complete nonsense. Dylan used stream-of-thought writing and created a whimsical, confusing and melodic series of ideas/situations/mind-exploding nonsensical bullshit.

I see Dylan’s tarantula as  “fuck you” to society- he knew it was nonsense. He knew no-one would understand it, at all. He wanted to see people “create” meaning from within the nonsense. And indeed, they have. It highlights how crucial interpretation is in the value of art. To be honest, if anyone else had written this piece it would likely have never have reached publication. Instead, it has a cult following. I love it.

“…. You must have something to do in your real life – I understand that you praised the piece you saw yesterday entitled “The Monkey Taster” about which you said meant “a nice work of butter carved into the shape of a young man who likes only African women” you are an idiot – it doesn’t mean that at all…I hereby want nothing to do with your hang-ups-I really don’t care what you think of my work as I now know you don’t understand it anyway…I must go now-I have this new hunk of margarine waiting in the bathtub – yes I said MARGARINE & next week I just might decide to use cream cheese – & I really don’t care what you think of my experimenting – you take yourself too seriously – you’re going to get an ulcer and go to the hospital-they’ll put you in a ward where you can’t have any visitors-you’ll go right off your nut-I really don’t care anymore-I am so bored with your rules and regulations that I might not even talk to you again-just remember tho, when you evaluate a piece of butter, you are talking about yourself, so you’d better sign your name…see you if you’re lucky at Mrs. Keelers cake festival.

Yours,
Snowplow Floater

p.s – you’re my friend & I’m trying to help you”