Wednesday, November 25, 2009

Beach Houses and Band Wagons

Photograph by Rune Guneriussen

It has come to my attention, gentle readers, that while we millionaires may be well versed in the vile art of male jewelry, we seem to be less and less in tune with new music. Whoops. In truth, I don't think I've even bought a single new release album all year. Not one. Not even Merriweather Post Pavilion. I just really didn't like the art work, okay?

Yes, I have well and truly fallen of the bandwagon, and am beginning to wonder how I ever even found the time to stay on it.

However, when I heard that Beach House had a new single out, I at least glanced briefly at that fateful wagon - far off in the distance though it was - and I liked what I saw. Or heard. Anyway...

I think Beach House's album of last year, Devotion, still probably gets the highest rotation of any CD in my collection. It's perfect for quiet, meditative nights alone, or for crafting (something I've been doing a LOT of lately, but more on that later - check out Quincey for some clues) or anything involving dim lights and muskily scented candles.

Their new tune, Norway, is more upbeat and jangly than most of Devotion, but still has that lovely lush quality that sends me into a dreamy haze. Just gorgeous.

Beach House - Norway

Beach House
- Astronaut (from Devotion)

Sunday, November 22, 2009

Manlaces: Just Say No!

"Oh Nonna! Why didn't you tell me that ladies laugh cruelly at a blinged up man!"

Goodness gracious! All this posting about modern literature is making me feel a little like we should be re-naming our place in interspace as “Number One Intellect”. But don’t worry, dear readers. You can trust me to bring us down a few levels. Today I am going to raise your awareness to an emerging and very serious problem facing young men; manlaces.

The other night I was happily sitting outside at Transit Bar after seeing a very average Vampire Weekend-esk rip off band, when my poor pretty eyes were violated. First there were scantily dressed, drunk, teenagers groping each other and speaking a little too loudly about what they would like to do to the other on my table, then there was the invasion of men wearing necklaces. I counted approximately eight mother flipping manlaces.

Oh god! Why?

Ryan, my first TV love, you look like a douche bag.

My dear friend Nathan pointed out that this invasion has been taking place over the last few months. Common characteristics of a man likely to develop a problem with manlaces include; tight skinny black jeans, a 'well groomed' mini-mullet, two shirts (a plain coloured shirt worn underneath a buttoned up shirt so that just a little bit of the under shirt can be seen; don't even get me started on how much i hate that look. Dan from Neighbours, I'm scowling at you...) and surprisingly, very nice shoes.

Here's an example of how manlaces can fuck you over. Chad Michael Murray; hottest of the hot to, well...

Mmm, so hot!

I don't know what to say.

The men I've noticed wearing manlaces all seem to look kind of smug. Like they're thinking, "Oh yeah, you're checking me out 'cause this manlace shows that I'm hot shit AND comfortable with my sexuality". Oh how wrong you are little boy, your face gives me nightmares.

King of the douches, complete with manlace.

I know quite a few of you gorgeous specimens of the male race who read our blog already wear skinny, black jeans. I've a not so secret soft spot for men in tight jeans, so yay you! And nice shoes up your stock by at least 20%. But beware! If you notice that you start to want to button up that second shirt you're wearing, or you start to think mini-mullets aren't that bad... BAM! You'll be wearing a manlace and I will have to smack you down.

Friday, November 20, 2009

Summer Reading List

I love making lists. Who doesn't love making lists? I love making overly ambitious, lengthy lists just so I can fantasize about the delicious feeling of smugness I'd be overcome with if I could tick even half of the tick boxes hand drawn next to every item on my list. The lovely thing about lists, though, is that just writing them down feels like an achievement; a declaration of intent.

Thus, here is my achievement of today, a picture of all the books I'd like to read this summer:

From top to bottom:

James Joyce - Portrait of the Artist as Young Man. Me Mam's favourite book. Figured I'd better indulge her. Plus visions of grey Dublin might keep me cool in the oppressive summer heat. Maybe?

Kurt Vonnegut - Slaughterhouse Five. One of me Da's favourite books, apparently. He was way progressive.

Nick Cave - And the Ass Saw the Angel. Bought this after seeing the very wonderful Nick Cave exhibition at the National Library. I'm a big fan of his music, and he's an amazing lyricist, so it follows that this should be good, right? Plus, not just anything gets defined as a Penguin modern classic. I also really want to read his new book The Death of Bunny Munroe. It pretty much has the best premise ever.

Salman Rushdie - Midnight's Children. I loved Shalmilar the Clown. Loved it. But have been too scared off reading this book by others who've attempted it. Still, it's the Booker of Bookers. I think I can handle it. Magical realism is also my new favourite genre.

Helen Garner - The Children's Bach. For my 'Australian' themed book club rotation. I thought Monkey Grip was brilliant and gritty and beautiful, and this has far more universal acclaim and is exquisitely short.

Murakami - Dance Dance Dance and Hard Boiled Wonderland and the End of the World. I went on a bit of a Murakami binge a few years back before I went to Japan, but never got round to reading these two. After Vanessa's last post I figured I aught to give them a go.

Richard Yates - Revolutionary Road. I talk about this as if I've read it, making references to my life, to 'buying into the lie', etc. But I haven't. I haven't even seen the movie. Probably should do something about that.

Gerald Durrel - The Talking Package. He's pretty much the most delightful writer of all time, and after the aforementioned, I might be in need of some delight.

Andrew McGahan - Wonders of a Godless World. Also for the Australian book club rotation. Am reading this at the moment. It's pretty unlike anything I've read before, almost like a fantasy book for children in its simplistic use of language but much much darker. Intriguing.

Not even pictured is Julia Child's My Life in Paris (sounds like the perfect holiday reading, no?) and Oscar and Lucinda by Peter Carey, also for book club.

What's on your list, poppets?

Wednesday, November 11, 2009


A perfect summer* evening ~ drinking a gin & tonic, sitting outside in the garden, reading a good book.

* I realise it is still technically Spring, but the weather tells me otherwise!

Monday, November 9, 2009

Rare but inexpensive

On Friday I went on a rare but expensive magazine splurge. I was about to go on a rare but expensive weekend getaway splurge, and figured that since I was going swimming, I might as well get well wet. And wet I got. In one of my purchases - the very pretty Fallen - I discovered an article about two Australian peeps who make artisan, semi uni-sex leather shoes and boots and sell them for apparently inexpensive prices (although I'm not sure how exactly such a lush magazine defines inexpensive. Any bids?)

They are called Illex Kinni, and they make me want to frolic in a mossy pine forrest wearing a flawless pair of black leather shoes.

Illex Kinni shoes can be found at Fat4 stores in Melbourne. Please save some for us poor isolated Canberra girls!

Post script: You can read about my rare but expensive weekend getaway splurge over at my new blog - Quincey.

Sunday, November 8, 2009


Le Saut dans le Vide (Leap into the Void) by Harry Shunk

Defenestration is the act of throwing one self or being pushed from a height, usually out of a window. I'm seriously considering it. I'd be able to get some type of extension for my uni assignment, right?

At the moment defenestration as a concept has a certain romantic appeal to me. I'm still to determine whether it's because of Harry Shunk's amazing photo of Yves Klein, or whether it's because I see it as a form of escapism.

I do, however, know one thing...

I would totally jump out of a window for you sir!

Agghhh! He's soooooooo attractive!