Lord, what fools these mortals be!

Over hill, over dale,
Thorough bush, thorough briar,
Over park, over pale,
Thorough flood, thorough fire,
I do wander everywhere,
Swifter than the moon's sphere;
And I serve the fairy queen,
To dew her orbs upon the green.

one hundred posts...

may this post be as unconnected and nonsensical as my day (which involved waking up late, almost bursting into tears in the apple store, and trying not to laugh when reading "a midsummer night's dream" in starbucks until it shut)

and in relation to that middle point, i've no idea whether they're going to have to take my laptop away. you'll find my delusional thoughts on twitter, if you care to look.

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so drink, drink, drink and be ill tonight

1. selena and me

2. the three things that keep me alive

3. innocence

4. ignore my face, look at debbie. (and i left this tee at home, cry)

all these photos are from my birthday weekend last year, i've just been a bit... crap at getting films developed.

i've been back in liverpool since 14.21 on thursday and absolutely nothing has gone right.

well, apart from the train being on time.

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bowie was a ballerina

cardigan; urban outfitters. skirt; american apparel. tights; topshop. boots; topshop. necklaces; topshop and accessorise.

david bowie turned sixty-four today, so i wore electric blue eye-liner which i found serendipitously in my bathroom at three in the morning. when i emerged from my room with a waft of hairspray my mum couldn't help but ask whether i was off to a ballet class. instead it was just a trip to town to return a pair of beautiful shoes because regardless of being very skilled in keeping high heels on all night, those toe crunchers wouldn't have lasted more than an hour. damn.

here's what luella has to say about the man who sold the world:

But the master of British androgyny is really David Bowie, or Ziggy Stardust, or the Thin White Duke or Aladdin Sane - call him what you will according to your favourite period, he nailed it in all of them. Devilishly handsome, he was the boy who first made English girls fancy men in make-up. Bowie can make anything cool and sexy and credible and sophisticated and render it with an intellectual depth. No matter how weird and wonderful, you can trust Bowie - not even age can harm his seductive powers. Bowie is the ultimate creator of British characters and he goes deep into the psyche of each of his personas. One simply marvels at the Thin White Duke singing 'Stay' and partaking in what looks like a Charleston dance for one of his live performances. It's the coolest, most effortless thing one could ever witness, but his lengthened, heightened poses were obviously constructed with time and obsession in front of the mirror, resulting in a perfect masquerade.

oh, and amy and i made cupcakes yesterday (the amount i've consumed in the past couple of days probably goes some way to explaining why half the photos i took today were unusable)

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