The End of the World

I have had a recurring dream for the last year where I find out that the world is just about to end and I am overwhelmed with the most pure and incredible happiness.

From Lars Von Trier's Melancholia. Highly recommend. It is by far my favorite Armageddon film. It is on Netflix, and I suggest that you perch your laptop somewhere safe and watch it in the bathtub with wine. A feel-good movie for sad fuck-ups.

How to completely smash your life to tiny unfixable pieces and start again. An experiment in irresponsibility and "Freedom in the Emptiness", by Amelia Aspen. (The term "Freedom in the Emptiness" c/o Jessie Beier. Genius at large.)

I hate to be bored, and even though I made myself as busy as I could possibly be and with things that I love like CRAZY, I got bored anyway somehow and I got really really sad, and I got lazy and didn't do anything about it for too long and now I need to shake it all off and start again. I am fucking terrified, but I also know that I either have to acknowledge that I am fucking terrified and move to France anyway, or else I have to accept that I am a person who never moved to France in their life, which is the only thing that scares me more. So.

(I could listen to this a thousand times and never get tired.)

I hope that all these Eat Pray Love assholes are right when they talk about how if you resolve to give fewer fucks and fling yourself in the general direction of your heart's truest desire, everything works out. If I can't land this manoeuvre (is that even how you spell that fucking word? I stared at it for too long and it doesn't even look like language anymore.) it is going to be a disaster. It is going to be the end of the world. Ha.

But lots of people do it. It can be done. So it can be done by me.

I know that I posted this already at some point, but it has crept into my head today while thinking about this, so here it is again:

Ugh. Can we just take a pause to reflect on Patti Smith being the best ever? Actually, this Paris sickness is kind of her fault. The way that she described running off to Paris to find herself in Just Kids was part of the reason that I wandered over there in the first place.

Important to note here: posting this song does not indicate any love for Bono.

This is an artist that I think everyone should get to know... His name is Llew Meija and his stuff is amazing:

The Lad Mags commissioned him to do something for us and that is where we got the snake image that is on the cover our tape and on our new shirts. (Not all of his stuff is this witchy. He does amazing animal and plant images and does textile and wallpaper design and stuff. It's all really rad. This just suits my current mood.) Check him out and buy his stuff here: http://www.llewmejia.com/

All navel-gazing aside, I have finally started to climb the flaming shit mountain that is the bureaucratic process of moving from one country to another and it is all

I promise I won't complain about it too much, but holy shit. Help is popping up here and there because people are awesome and D and I are lucky, but still.

I am so curious to know what kind of life we'll carve out over there.

These people really took this idea to the max: http://www.chateaudegudanes.org/captains-log/
Wouldn't it be nice to be a zillionaire with a castle to play around with? I kind of want to hate these people, but also watching them pick off moldy old wood panels to discover beautiful old painted frescoes that pre-date the French Revolution, it made my pulse race a bit. Also the ancient kids' height charts. Wah. I wonder how long those kids have been dead for?

Here is another example. Chateau de Rentilly. I am not sure what I think about this one. On one hand I like the idea of re-purposing a crumbling building, and I am definitely in favour of more art space existing in the world, but:

I am not sure about this. via If It's Hip It's Here

I guess this looks like the future. Which looks a bit like the end of the world. Actually, I take that back. I think this is pretty rad. The building almost disappears in some photos. It is a venue for Frac Ile-de-France. Here is the current exhibition showing there right now:  http://www.fraciledefrance.com/explore-3/?lang=en

This is one of my favorite things ever. It has nothing to do with anything else, really. I just always think of it when I feel like I am losing my marbles. Here. Lose your marbles along with me:

I just realized with a heart-thud that I probably can't take any of my records with me. Fuuuuuuuuuuck.

Seasonal Affectation Disorder

You should listen to this:

This is Julia Holter and for a slowjam, this song rules pretty hard. I guess I'd better take advantage of being allowed to post music while I can.

Also these munchkins make me pretty happy with their smashing. I think they are zygotes, which is great. Just imagine how good they'll be by the time their balls drop:

In light of the HEAVY FEELINGS of that last post, I think I am not really going to write about anything in particular. In case you can't tell.

I managed to solve all home decorating problems with a single purchase. This isn't exactly it, but it is pretty close:

That is wallpaper. If you need me, I'll be sucking back Mai-tais and bouncing on the couch in a coconut bra. Set up the bubble you want to live in and fucking live in it, I say.

Speaking of denial, look how awesome these are:

If only I'd found these before Christmas. There isn't really anyone I can think of that I don't want to buy these for, including myself.  (They are from Jack Spade).

I can't tell if it is embarrassing or not that I like this, but I like it. Does the awesomeness of Patti Smith make up for the Bono-ness of Bono? Let's debate.

I remember really liking the original version of this song when it came out, which I probably shouldn't confess (in my defense, I think I was 11). Anyway, Patti Smith is awesome and I wish I had actually figured that out earlier. Even though I knew on paper all the great stuff she did, I remember seeing the cover of Horses in my mom's collection (I think? In someone's collection...) and thinking she looked like a Ricky Lee Jones type of singer-songwriter, chucking her record aside in favour of Led Zeppelin, and even now 25 years later, I've had to be inexplicably dragged kicking and screaming out of that little kid assumption that I made.



Are you ready to look at some beautiful things?

Look at this store (London friends, this won't excite you, sorry.): Merchant Archive. Give me everything.

Ok, I am going to go be a good little worker bee. xo!

Oh yeah. Recipe. I don't know about you but I just want to eat spicy soup and bread when the weather gets Siberian. Here's a bread recipe I want to try. Lots of internet bakers say it is the best bread they've ever made. Enjoy!:

Honey Wheat Bread

Ingredients

• 1 (.25 ounce) package rapid rise yeast
• 1 teaspoon white sugar
• 1/2 cup warm water (110 degrees F/45 degrees C)
• 1 (12 fluid ounce) can evaporated milk
• 1/4 cup water
• 1/4 cup melted shortening
• 1/4 cup honey
• 2 teaspoons salt
• 2 cups whole wheat flour
• 3 cups bread flour
• 2 tablespoons butter

Directions

1. Dissolve yeast and sugar in 1/2 cup warm water.
2. Combine milk, 1/4 cup water, shortening, honey, salt and wheat flour in food processor or bowl. Mix in yeast mixture, and let rest 15 minutes. Add bread flour, and process until dough forms a ball. Knead dough by processing an additional 80 seconds in food processor, or mix and knead by hand 10 minutes. Place the dough in a buttered bowl, and turn to coat. Cover the bowl with plastic wrap. Let dough rise for 45 minutes, or until almost doubled.
3. Punch down, and divide dough in half. Roll out each half, and pound out the bubbles. Form into loaves, and place in buttered 9x5 inch bread pans. Butter the tops of the dough, and cover loosely with plastic wrap. Let rise in a warm area until doubled; second rise should take about 30 minutes.
4. Place a small pan of water on the bottom shelf of the oven. Preheat oven to 375 degrees F (190 degrees C).
5. Bake for 25 to 35 minutes, or until tops are dark golden brown. Butter crusts while warm. Slice when cool.