As fast as a hare as brave as a bear.
I’ve always loved the near nude/naked effect of being draped carelessly with a sheet, or a bib, such like this. It is alluring. When I online modeled I chose my outfit one day to be a pillow-cased pillow and simply moved the rectangle around teasingly, lazily in just my underwear behind it. That lasted about two hours until my bosses were like uh, Raymi, knock it off put some clothes on. I guess that would be the book to write. Except my name wasn’t Raymi. It was Nikola.
I’ve socially spread this media around already but it always must come to land on the mother port.
Now here I am as a commuter gypsy. Everyone is seeing red coats now. My personal manclub espesh, red coats on le brain. Sorry!
Sick tights Cas.
Happy Birthday again ghostphone.
We have known each other years.
But unfortunately she doesn’t want to “be known” for anything at all ever (so you won’t be seeing a picture OF her) which is 1. very neat 2. punk rock of her and 3. endearing so be satisfied with pictures of her lovely things instead. See, I am not the only one who collects magic pony barf.
Wilbur. Still loves me.
This is on a door.
Til next time mon petit ami.
Oh wait I didn’t leave yet we took the dog for a walk and to whole foods and then we watched the social network and twilight. Don’t I look like a wizard here?
What’s is going down Y-ville?
They let you bring dogs inside. We watched Ghostphone shop from above where Wilbur could no longer go, felt like hobos and weirdly stalkerish but calming. Just standing. All I have to do is stand here, that’s it? This does not seem like enough to do. Some people don’t know how to relax. I am “some people”.
It’s always a little trippy coming back to an old neighbourhood of yours. You feel like a ghost. A knowing ghost. Passages have stories. Places, history. Before it creeps back in, your transient fortune gets to roll on down the road ramblin man styles.
That is a future Raymi burlesque dance video.
The cab’s lights lighting up this poor sod’s bike.
Tan up for the winter? Or go whitey fair? F it I’ll go for a tan today take advantage of the sunny day go for a winter run, cray!
Gotta keep it teeny tiners.
When Bechfreak and I went for tacos weeks ago. This week I am grounding myself doing much of nothing no parties unless something major comes up, trust, it hurts to turn things down but you can’t do it all. I am in the process of boring myself to death so that I am forced to produce more, things I have long put off, ideas, great big ideas man. It’s time to get ahead of myself. Also, I stopped drinking (for the most part) we’ll talk about it later though. You can’t really go out if you’re not drinking right? Well, other normal people can, I can’t.
Whenever the last time I painted my nails pink was and what for I do not recall. It’s been a bit of a blur but I am certain there is a reason for it, there’s typically a themed tie-in to the colour on my minx talons. I THINK THAT SHIT THROUGH.
Who’s the mayor of teeny town now? See you at the polls this week.
Skinny day! Acknowledged and holy.
End of the night Halloween. Not as skinny that day. Today though? Load’s skins.
Gwailo night! I’ve been invited out to several dining expeditions since. I just can’t keep eating all the time, or can I?
Although this fashion shirt is an xs it makes me feel wicked fat in it WTF. Wearing my most curvacious Marilyn Monroe torpedo poker bra with it was my first mistake. Channeling Xtina?
Chill there, Oliver Twist.
Cutest absentminded claw hand yet?
Cradling my blackened chicken wrap.
Feeling this old hollywood red. I love nail polish names. So, spot on, clever, cheeky. A character in Atwood’s The Robber Bride has a makeup empire and names nailpolishes after goddesses for one brand of metallics. #bookwizard
This should be an interesting party.
Then it was my mom’s birthday on the 6th. I’ll blog that later. Time for Raymi Aerobics and email catch-up. KEEP IT REAL. RLW.