BOO!

Miami Horror swept into, (dun dun dun) Miami, last Wednesday night and proved that, actually, the band has absolutely no beef with the city. Benjamin Plant, keyboardist and Australian mastermind behind the funky electro band, likes the USA ahellofalot, and colorful, hot Miami is no exception- which became quite clear when the skinny Melbourne-based foursome took up the stage at LIV.


It was a good night, filled with drunken falls on slippery glittering floors, Melbourne club bashing, and a Rome-bought red jumpsuit worn by yours truly.

When the Fountainbleau's valet pulled up A.'s green mustang at 5 in the morning, we weren't sure what was more Horrific: my 9 AM class, or her 12 PM job interview.



OLB

dishevelled morning memories

ever wake up in the morning, and the sun's clustering in your eyelashes and you're not quite sure what millenium it is; your hair is mix-matched with the pillow, orange juice would be good, the covers are forming a flower of fabric as you think- "dammit ; this is a wonderful world."








(sources; fb, jackie pember, alessandraambrosio.com, alyssa ward, nadia deriche, my own personal collection, alienormeyerextraordinaire)

OLB

7 AM + 6 hours

7 AM is here. Really? SEVEN? I could have sworn when I rolled up the blinds, the sun would be blaring.

Jetlag. My old friend.

Yes; you've guessed it. I crossed the pond in the other direction (I will spare you the croissants + donuts diagram.) But yes, AirFrance brought me to NonFrance, and now I am sitting upright in my bed with not even the slight inclination to yawn.

J'ai envie de parler français en plus. (Merde.)

Sorry about that. French rolls off the tongue in such a lovely manner, that even after you've extradited yourself to other less pleasantly sounding linguistic lands, you can't help but to still want to utilize the language.

So, yesterday afternoon, the thought of diving back into straight-up-American-YALL was terrifying.

This is me, sitting on the plane back over, next to the empty seat which still had not been filled by my neighbor.

(private thoughts) -

pleasedon'tletmesitnexttosomeonefromtexasnoseriouslynotevenkansas
ohgoddefinitelynotkansasbutevenarkansaswouldbeatotalnightmare
orevencaliforniaidon'tknowificanhandlehearingdudejustyet

Very gentle looking German (don't ask me how, but I just gathered he was German, right away) college-professor type sits down.

(instant private thoughts) -

maybehewillspeaktomeingerman!YAY!thesetypesofmenaughttoknow
frenchasathirdlanguageanywayohpleasepleasepleaselethim
thinkidon'tspeakenglish

"Hallo. I must work, you see. I must work this flight, so I will not bother you" (with your English? Oh, come on, I'm not like that...) "I will ask the flight attendant to move me to another seat. I will ask right away."

At this point I'm wondering if that wouldn't be a mistake, maybe the gentle older German man next to me is some sort of brilliant science know-it-all (he kind of has the look) who can help me with my much neglected ecology homework. AND, he's not from Arkansas, not even Texas or Cali; his accent is almost kind of pleasant to the ear.

(private thoughts)

OHbutifIcouldjustbaskinmyfrenchstateofmindfor8morehours...

I got my eight hours.

Can I get them back?






OLB

wor(l)dliness

I like words.
I like shaping words. I like controlling them.
I like putting that word in front of that one, because it will sound prettier or perhaps more severe.
I like words the way some may like numbers. I can add them up or divide them, make them adhere to any equation I want.
I like letters the way some may like colors. I can't really explain it, but 'a' could be green and 'b' blue, and then I know where to place them according to their separate hue.
Some say they would rather use bricks to construct- I prefer to use syllables. I don't doubt the power of clay, nor wood, nor metal - but I cannot pretend to believe that words are not more likely to stand the test of time.
Surely, words will last longer than any tangible thing?
A word pyramid will not be affected by the constant wear of wind and rain. A word pyramid is sturdy, will not budge, will not fall underneath the rubble natural phenomenons can so unexpectedly create.
Paragraphs are like endurable shelters for what men have deemed most important to protect.
Only men have the power to create and destroy words, and then, to destroy them is much harder than to build them up. The same could not be said about things: this is not true of buildings; nor sculptures or paintings- but with words, I would find it most true; wouldn't you?



All that said, I do appreciate a good picture.

"I have a rendez-vous with Death
At some disputed barricade"
SEEGER









OLB.