A Brief Yet Triumphant Intermission

Am taking some time out from the blogathon, you know - to focus on myself and stuff like that.

I know you will miss me terribly, but fear not: there shall no doubt be a backlog of photos of myself to share with the world upon return.
Plus there will be other bells and whistles. (Not Bel whistling tho, I am pants at that).

Ka kite ano,

XXX

Christina Rossetti poem: In An Artist's Studio

In An Artist's Studio

One face looks out from all his canvasses,
One selfsame figure sits or walks or leans;
We found her hidden just behind those screens,
That mirror gave back all her loveliness.
A queenin opal or in ruby dress,
A nameless girl in freshest summer greens,
A saint, an angel; -- every canvass means
The same one meaning, neither more nor less.
He feeds upon her face by day and night,
And she with true kind eyes looks back on him
Fair as the moon and joyfull as the light;
Not wan with waiting, not with sorrow dim;
Not as she is, but was when hope shone bright;
Not as she is, but as she fills his dream.






Christina Rossetti

dancin in the park

X-air's not exactly my scene. I can see foolhardy young men risking life and limb, doing stunts on dirt bikes and caning themselves from mid-air anytime I want really - we call that "post-Christmas-lunch activities" in our family.

But I will hunt down breakdancers whereever they may be, so off Leanne and I went on Sunday, avoiding the oh-so-empowering bikini comp by the lagoon and the assault of coporate sponsors at every turn.

b-girl styles holla!!

Thanks to Body Rock the week before, we were familiar with plenty of the talent and were continued to be impressed by the crews at Frank Kitts Park that afternoon. The final was between Fresh Socks (its an awesome name, you know it) and the Original Step Kingz - not to be confused with all those subsequent, derivative Step Kingz, thank you very much.

Fresh Socks crew, Trans-Tasman deliciousness that they are.

Original Step Kingz: Kurv, Stretch and, um, the other guy.

Stretch was the guy who won overall at Body Rock and twas no surprise his crew was tight. I loved it when rather than just one of them stepping out, all three would bust out some move at the same time and overwhelm the other side.

Not to say that Fresh Socks didn't have a fair bit of style. Rush was the judge of Body Rock, and him & Melbz had come over from Australia for the events. (I'm just throwing the 'z's in willynilly here, these hip hip kids don't seem to have much respect for the humble 's').



As well as high quality 3 on 3 breaking, there was lots of other action to gaze upon all day. The kids that make up the entourage are just amazing. So much talent, so much stamina, so much damn attitude. You should have seen the way this little un, Kid Swerve, son of the MC/organiser of the event, rolled. He had a shoulder brush-off to be revered.



And for those of you (all of you) who just don't give a shite, I have annotated the token cute blondie. During the under-ages battle, she mightly took the mat, but didn't actually get around to demonstrating any ill moves. Still claimed her Moro bar tho, so I respect her for that.

We also received a few Moro bars during the course of the event, so I guess the corporate sponsors aren't all bad. Though by 'received' I do of course mean 'was flung at close range by extremely fit young gentlemen'. Tweet, the MC, kept saying "Aah yeah, sorry if you get one in the eye, yo!".

But other that slightly sunburnt legs and lingering grief that I will never ever look that cool on the dancefloor, there were no injuries on my part as a result of attending X-Air.


-insert Craig David lyrics here-

Happy thank-fuck-valentine's-day-is-over Day!!

Jokes, people, jokes.

Despite being one of those singleton types, supposedly morose on Feb 14th, and whom my colleagues thought it would be HILARIOUS to tease that each ring of the office doorbell promised a mysterious red rose bouquet, I had quite a lovely day yesterday.

Wellington continues to convince us that tis indeed summer and that sort of behaviour can't help but put you in a good mood. I had a pie for lunch (potato top, goddam) and took my new $600-for-$149 Karen Walker pants to get taken up. Actually, I think I'm going to devote a whole new paragraph to this.

I've NEVER had to get trousers taken up before in my life. I had to call back the store and ask them to recommend somewhere. (Topline Tailors, on Dixon, FYI). Was most bizarre. I'm pretty much six foot once I get shoes on, so most of the time I have a problem in the other direction. Quite exciting really!!

Anyway, my evening was devoted to seeing a Fringe Festival play with a dear friend (not only female, but in a relationship, with another female - how's that for anti-V-Day?! Take that Hallmark, you consumerist hetero mainstream bastards, I'm pretty sure you don't have any sppropriate giftcard for THAT occasion). 'Lovers of Central Park' by James Hadley was pretty amazing and has been reviewed very favourably here for those interested.

Then just as I got home I saw a very cute wee hedgehog on our driveway so that pretty much topped it all off.

I wasn't completely deserted in terms of Valentine's treats however, fear not! Lovely Louise, formerly of the Travels, sent me this e-card a week or so beforehand, nicely setting the tone:


Roffle roffle. Tho I have to admit that despite being fairly leet, I'm not entirely sure what "STFU" means. I kinda like the sound of it tho. I imagine saying as an actual word, through gritted teeth and snarled lip, though still in a jokey, sort of ironic way. I also imagine that any true geek is sighing wearily at my way-off interpretation right now.

Then much to my joy I got some REAL mail in my ACTUAL letterbox - from ALL THE WAY around the world. In case the overabundance of caps locks didn't inform you, twas quite the thrill. It was my other Lou, which makes me think I may stock up on these well-named creatures for next year, as they seem to produce the goods.
Perhaps even a boy-flavoured one, as that would be quite compatible with my lifestyle.


I say "ka pai" to the funky card with retro wallpaper styles. Its now on my work pinboard, with many other important coroporate related documents, as you can see.

But wait! There's more! Lou just couldn't help herself, and when she saw this e-card, she just had to send it through as well:



And of course, at the home of all sweet lovin, MySpace, dear Tanyapants had bestowed this upon me:



Ooh eer!

In return, my sentiments are represented by the artwork of Jason Sho Green. I've loved this guy's work for years, and was thrilled that he let me include one of his sketches in my Goody Two Shoes zine. He recently started posting daily on You Yes You, but sadly he didn't deliver his infamous Valentine's cards this year.

Fortunately, amongst his archives on Flickr are his cards from 2005, including one of my favourites:



Arohanui e hoa ma, lots of love - not just on one day of the year, but on most of them ;)

another kind of dancin in the street

Showing us how it's done.

You have to visit the website to see the pics - if you try do the 'right button click' (with your mind going COPY! SAVE! SET AS DESKTOP BACKGROUND! OMG!) a little box pops up pointing out the images are copyright and to please refrain. Fair enuff.

The images remind me of Sam Taylor-Wood's photos, from the exhibition which only got attention for the 'Crying Men' section. (Trelease mentioned it in her Special Guest Post late last year). But there were other images, some of which were very similar to this in concept.



Just found that off Google - but you still MUST go check out those World Press Photo winners - as they stomp all over them. Sam Taylor-Wood's ones are steeped in her overriding aesthetic, which works in terms of her oevre, but you get so much more of a feeling of vitality and passion from that set of the French photographer.

(I'm been trapped in a spreadsheet all afternoon, okay, cleaning up data - let me enthuse a little!!).

A huge thank you to Tanya for the heads-up on these. I love it when a friend just totally knows what is going to float your boat - particularly in terms of art. I had a nasty falling out with Sam recently over Yves Klein, along the lines of "You didn't have a love-at-first-sight experience with one of his paintings?! FOOL".

I usually find the World Press Photo exhibition fairly traumatising. Last year a friend, Jim, was managing it here in Wellington and by the time I shuffled round my lap, I threw my arms around him and sobbed right there by the main doors. (I'm sure he just lapped up the heartfelt public endorsement).

At least now I know I have gravity defying French hotties to look forward to, as well as a wake-up call about the worldwide horrors and travesties that slid under my nose during the last twelve months.