Sometimes all you need to do..

Is put a song made of pure genius, like this, on repeat for a few days straight, as long as it takes.

Whatever babe, I'll see you in Hell.

Fuck this.
Fuck you.
Fuck them.
Fuck 'em all.
Fuck her,
Fuck him.
Fuck it.
Fuck it all.
Most of all,
Fuck Me.

Nyerrghphlegm.

So god help me.

For my first school assignment I have to make a 'Work' based off the following sentence.

"Iran's supreme leader, Ayatolla Ali Khamenei, said that the study of liberal arts and social sciences had led to a woeful "loss of belief in godly and Islamic knowledge", and hinted, as universities prepared for the new academic year, that secular-minded lecturers should be purged."

I started brainstorming about an hour ago and all my brain's come up with is lots of arty farty flames and Qur'ans burning or being eaten by arty farty monsters.

Million Dollar Question: Am I going to try and do this the Rietveld way and float about, upon questioning insisting it indeed does represent the actual subject at hand or will I just go my own and cartoon the living hell out of the assignment?

"[17:18:05] icyruru zegt: ...*heads desk*
[17:19:15] icyruru zegt: Just do paint splatter and say the choas created from this is from the lack of religous veiws and science and stuff creating chaos in people."

Righty-o.

Old friends.

However much fun meeting new people is, and however much new friends make me thrive and sail emotion's waves like one completely unaware of the man-eating sharks lurking below the surface, there's something to be said for hooking up with old friends again. A sense of security, if you will. They knew who you were, what you were about back in the days regardless of what you've become. The mere process of reinstating neglected friendships completely skips the outer layers of getting acquainted, no primal showing off one's feathers and just getting straight to business; we like eachother. We liked eachother then and no matter what you're wearing we will still like each other now. It's a pity how people often seem to forget that scenes and styles really are not the bricks one should build a friendship with.

(I mean, I will always love Bubba even though he likes the cock and Lady Gaga now. I can live with that, because I love him. It's a sacrifice I make for the good of our friendship. This does not mean, Aynouk, that it's okay to put Whitney Houston on repeat on a 1.5 hour roadtrip. There's a limit to my love. )

With the above in mind..
Welcome back, Sui.

Six Feet Underground.

So.. There's this band. Friends of sorts, I suppose. They're called The Virgin Tongues, and they pretty much make the most beautiful music I've heard in long. Pretty much.

The Virgin Tongues consists of 3 guys, Duncan, Nima and Mickey, currently somewhat situated in Berlin. This is their first video/song.



Yes, that blazing beauty with the hat is Noelle, my precious Noelle, being all awesome and captivating. Needless to say I'm absurdly proud of the whole thing. Them, her. It.

Once upon a time's back.

I always looked like this.
Now, I'm going to look like this again.





Whether it's old enough to be Oldskool or I'm just a sad copy of my former glorious 16 year old self I'm not sure of yet, but I'm totally digging it.

As I Know It.

A Different Kind of Lonesome.

Barely Legal.

Missus here was once born on the right side of the tracks.
Used to play the piano but boys only in tag.

But now she's become of legal age she's donned her leather slacks.
And steady as she goes you'd say there is no turning back.

Raving through her life, high on all the goods faith lacks.
Big on sin and evil but wisely keeping off the crack.

Guilt not in her repertoire as she didn't give a heck
About both breaking hearts and causing several to attack

Prancing when the sun's out but prowling in night's black
Keeping women's wrath at bay, vastly surrounded by her pack

Yes, once she was still proper, merely waiting for her Jack
But now she's ruling Old Town in her tattered leather slacks.
-Ace Dia.

Hilarious Horror.

Gerrit Rietveld orientation year, here I come.

I can't believe they've accepted me, with the huge difference in styles.

I wonder what comes out of this.

Omegle.

Connecting to server...
You're now chatting with a random stranger. Say hi!
Omegle is not a dating site. Please try to have interesting conversations here!
You: Heyo.
Stranger: 你把QQ发来
You: I agree, sir.
Stranger: 可以说中文吗
You: Yeah, that's what my wife said last night too.
You: So, how's that working out for you?
Stranger: 说中文好不好
You: No way? Seriously? I have the same thing. What'd he say you should do?
Stranger: 晕
Your conversational partner has disconnected.

Common sense.

I'm proud of myself! I went shopping, and I actually bought basics. New black skinny jeans, a black woollen sweater, underwear. Be it brightly coloured and lacy and not all that functional. Brown ankle boots WITHOUT heels. So, fine, I also got myself a pair of high heel black ankle boots covered in studs, but one out of so many ain't bad, 'hm? Insert something about either growing up, or getting boring.

Anyway, busy weekend. Tomorrow I have to run some errands to get the Barge's birthday gifts in order, then off to Amsterdam, meet up with Joost Vandebrug to hop by Elle Mag's offices with him, see if they like me enough to fill a couple pages with, haha. Then after that it's Juse's birthday part #1 and then the Budt party in Paradiso, which supposedly should be fun. Wake up somewhere (as of yet undecided) then go to Rietveld for my intake, hope that'll go alright. Then off to the Hell's Angels Visitor day, check out the bikeshow. Then off to Valtifest, where I first have to represent Kuyichi in the Anti Aids fashionshow, then rave my head off with the Million Dollar Kids. Then after Valtifest I might go to the Hell's Angels support party for some fun, but I'll probably just go straight on to Fuck your Future, Juse's birthdayparty. Sunday's still in debate.

It better be fun. I need a FFWD button.

Let's try this again.

On a slightly less poetic note.

Stuff's coming up! Ever homeless as I am, my new little piece of terror that goes by the name of Velvet in my imagination, came up with the brilliant idea of moving in with her at the end of october. The place is perfect, tiny but so very cute, and all ours. If all goes well and this is actually happening I hope to be able to repay all the kindness people have shown me by letting me crash at their place for the past 4 years over and over again.

As for terror, the only reaction I've gotten from people upon telling them these plans ranged from 'Oh god..' to 'The world as we knew it.' so I suppose I'm in for fun.

Right now I've locked myself up at the folks', working and working and working to be able to show Rietveld something that would make them want to take me. I made this last night, something somewhat new, yet hopefully inevitably me.




It's actually Velvet. Or at least her hair.