these are a group of pictures i've taken over christmas. i don't consider myself a photographer in the slightest (we're 21st century teenagers lol, we're all photographers) but they're photos i really like. i always look at things too subjectively which makes it difficult for me to work out if anything i produce is actually worthy of anyone else's attention.
i hate to jump on the bandwagon but my dad put lady gaga's album on my laptop and i've spent the last two hours sitting here in my bedroom with it on repeat. i've got an exam in 12 hours so i probably shouldn't be procrastinating like this. i managed to work my way through my GCSEs doing very little work, but i still can't manage to understand that i actually need to WORK to succeed in my A Levels. this time in 5 months i've finished college and i'm turning 18, and i still haven't quite worked out how to get out of bed when the alarm goes off. i slept through a doctor's appointment and a drama lesson today. it's awful really.
i bought a copy of allen ginsberg selected poems last week. i've got no idea if he's a cliched poet to like, in the way e.e. cummings is, but either way i don't really care. i went for a meal with chris tonight and then caught a train over to my dad's and read a bunch of ginsberg poems the whole way. you should read his poem Many Loves. or perhaps you shouldn't because i think i only enjoy it so much because i "identify" with it.
ON NEAL'S ASHES - allen ginsberg
Delicate eys that blinked blue Rockies all ash
nipples, Ribs i touched w/ my thumb are ash
mouth my tongue touched once or twice all ash
bony cheeks soft on my belly are cinder, ash
earlobes and eyelids, youthful cock tip, curly pubis
breast warmth, man palm, high school thigh,
baseball bicept arm, asshole anneal'd to silken skin
all ashes, all ashes again.
song: Paparazzi - lady gaga; book: Can You Keep A Secret? - sophie kinsella. (sophie kinsella writes appalling yet absolutely brilliant chicklit, i don't know whether i should lie and say i'm reading proust or something.)
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