tarantulatrash

This needs no explanation.

Posted in art, art melbourne, culture, fashion, funny, humour, life, melbourne, photography, street fashion, Uncategorized by tarantulatrash on May 15, 2010

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While we’re fisheye-ing

Posted in art, art melbourne, culture, life, lomo, lomography, melbourne, photography, street fashion, Uncategorized by tarantulatrash on April 30, 2010

Here’s one of me, by Gianna. In a vegan-ish stage, rockin’ the pleather.

In other news, I am currently eating milo out of the tin.

It has been said

Posted in art, culture, fashion, life, lomo, lomography, melbourne, photography, street fashion, Uncategorized by tarantulatrash on April 19, 2010

Life is better when you’re pompous.

I want a bike.

Posted in art, culture, life, lomo, lomography, love, melbourne, photography, sport, Uncategorized, vintage by tarantulatrash on April 14, 2010

With a basket and sweet vintage step-through style. LC-A+, AGFA 200.

I just played truth or dare with Jamie for an hour. The bastard just kept saying “truth”. I think he may have been scared of what my dare would be.
It may have involved nudity.
It’s late, and I’m tired. I bought 9 pairs of underwear today, all exactly the same.

I am sick of hearing about/ seeing “fixies”.  Apparently this is becoming a subculture of its own in Melbourne? With a hierarchy of fixie enthusiast stature?

I have become obsessed with Waterfords Apple Berry Natural Mineral Water.

I’m really not making a lot of sense.

Goodnight.

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. “