Vivienne Westwood

The girl from the Vivienne Westwood Nauty Alice adverts. 

Looks rather funky when edited.

I'm not bad... I'm just drawn that way.

A sketch of the fabulous Jessica Rabbit.

Download

A quick sketch I did when I returned from Download Fest as I just wanted to get back in that field and see some more bands! 

Skindred were probably my second favourite band. 

A few days later I added a few other bits to the original doodle. 

Looking back.

Reading back the posts that I made last year amuses me to no end. It's amazing how much a person can change, or a situation can change a person, in such a short space of time.

All I know of the previous posts is that I wasn't very happy at that point in my life and I was looking to blame it on something else. Or trying to find a way to express it. I'm not sure.

Yet the posts are staying. It's interesting to look back, on what feels like eons ago, and remember how I felt and how grateful I am for where I am now.

Madrid or maybe Barcelona.

These photos were taken a few years back on a family holiday somewhere in Spain. 

What's it all about...

I don't understand what it's all about.
A guy once said that God is what it is about.
Sex, Drugs and Rock and Roll?
Materialistic?
Or just the people that you meet?

It could even be those moments. The ones that you will never get to live again. The first times and the last times. We were once all pure and untouched. Then we got a little older and naivety seemed like a bad thing. So we corrupt and throw it all away. Eventually we got to a place where we are so destroyed that none of it seems to matter. Or maybe we understand that it all matters in the insignificance of it all. We're all doing the same thing yet it is different to every being. So is there a thing as unique?

In the end we just all want to believe something. Believe that we were worth something. Believe that it mattered. Believe that we were wanted.

Snow

A few photos from Austria that I took a couple of years ago on my very first ski trip.

The same emotions, the same feelings, the same arguments regenerated for generations and generations. You could compare it to fashion, recylced, reused, restyled but really it's just the same.

lalalallaa

We are here. So should that be it or should we question it?

We are placed on this earth and given knowledge. Then we have to develop our own thoughts, but are they really ours? We take the influences of others the experiences from the past and develop our own thoughts and opinions.

Naivety is lost and we develop a cynical take on the world.

Are we born with these views, hidden in the depths of our mind just waiting for the correct stimiluous to trigger it. Or are do we develop them as time goes on and as we grow with experiences. Or is that just the same thing?

Going through the motions,
Yet feeling none of the emotions.

Trying to please,
Trying to scare,
Trying to see,
Why the fuck I care.

A trickle of a drop,

A spell almost broke,

A secret nearly lost.

Alcohol

The burnt orange,

The tempting smell,

The ugly end,

Yet still,

You reach and wretch,

Yearning for the bottle,

The want for more,

The need for life, 

To see past the clouds,

Experience the real,

Dull the senses,
And fake the smiles. 

Stars.

Look to the skies,
Can you feel the stars,
Hear them breath,
Listen to their story,
Open you're heart,
To the beauty of the night.

Demons.

Run from the demons,

You'll die eventually,

It might be slow,

You'll feel the pain,

But it will end,

And that's ok.

The L Promise

A word, an expression,

An unknown emotion,

A feeling, a thought,

twisted like the ocean,

I opened up the gate for you.

I let you in.

And you responded,

By tearing down the castle.

Was it naivety,

Or was it hope?

I would like to think the latter,

Yet I’m thinking maybe not.

Again and again,

The scars are reopened,

But will they heel,

Again and again.

You stabbed me thrice,

You made me bleed.

I fell on the kitchen floor,

Where I saw you leave.

When every emotion is felt for you,

What am I to do?

You are my umbilical cord,

I am dead without you.


I was reading a lot of Sylvia Plath when I wrote this. Odd because I didn't particularly like her style or what she had to say.