Curiouser and Curiouser

This has been a strange but wonderful week. 

There's been a lot of good news, for a start. My boyfriend R and I have been seeing each other (long distance, admittedly) since late last year but finally made things Facebook official this week. And look, I'm not going to lie: I derive such a sick little joy out of going to my profile and seeing the words "In a relationship with [R]" under my name and birth date. But what is it about a changed relationship status that can send every male you've ever made extended eye contact with into an absolute flurry of questioning text messages and accusations? (Particularly, your best and arguably closest friend of three years?)

Them's the brakes, I guess. R's in town for work so, immediately following the fallout, we went into hiding in the little cabin he's staying in on a nearby dam a few towns over to enjoy the absolute peace and quiet. Asides, of course, from the never-ending rain pattering down outside. It's been such a rainy summer but for once, I don't seem to mind much - perfect cuddling weather. I think I probably had the most peaceful, most relaxed night conceivable. I don't actually remember the last time I was so content. Unfortunately though, the sun always comes up. Can't live in a little fantasy world forever. 

On the plus side, I did get back into contact with N, a pen pal of sorts who means more to me and more in my life than most people who live a short drive across town. (N lives in Western Australia.) I'd almost forgotten how easy it is to talk to her, and how happy it makes me when we do. Talking about the past - about my old writing, which she was always the first person to read, and about our shared hatred of pretty much everyone in the world - brought back so many things, most of which I think it was important to remember. 

I was polishing off a feature that I've been writing for Purple Sneakers (which should be published sometime before Monday pending editing and approval) but when I was inevitably smacked upside the head by writer's block, R and I went outside and cuddled on the balcony. (I've been practicing blowing smoke rings without much great success.) 

And talk about this for a milestone: I even let him take pictures of me without makeup on. I don't even remember the last time I let someone take a picture of me without makeup on.  

Here's my happy little playlist for the past week:

• Lay It Down, The Rubens
• The Werewolf You Become, The Holidays
• Giant Song, Funeral Party
• Sleepy Tigers, Her Space Holiday

xo, CK

Oh, hey.

Last year I wrote a couple of sanctimonious reviews mocking big budget movies I saw and hated and these can be found on my good friend Kyle's blog, YouReviewAU (specifically, a review of Red Riding Hood, here, and a review of Monte Carlo, here, although I endorse that you check out the entire site which is predominantly full of meaningful, well-considered reviews of things that are actually good save for my bitchy rants about big budget movies) for those of you who are interested. 

And, in an exciting turn of events, about 24 hours ago I found out that I got a sweet biscuits position as an online contributor for Purple Sneakers (also to be found on Twitter and Facebook). My first review for the site is of the mesmerizing video for Zimbabwe (Flume remix) by New Navy; the times, they are a-changin'.

Thought I'd share the love around. I know for a fact that Kyle has been super supportive of everything I've pursued in the three years that we've been friends, from trying my hand at music (which was a short-lived but no less embarrassing pursuit, to be completely honest with you), to scripts and, now, reviews. 

xo, CK

PS: Just in case you feel like you don't hear from me enough, you can follow me on Twitter, which I update slightly less sporadically than this blog.

Moving Is The Devil's Work

I'm in the middle of the moving process, which is the single greatest torture that can be inflicted on any hoarder. The mature, reasonable approach to moving house would be to calmly and carefully go through my possessions and discern what I actually need to keep, and what's superfluous. Then, throw out anything that I don't actually need or want anymore. Then, arrange my leftover possessions neatly, in an organised manner. 

Fuck that, though. I'm shoving shit in boxes and hiding them around my little flat for Future Cheryl to deal with. I'm trying to be good about blogging and pushing myself to post with something sort of resembling regularity - yes, that's right; I made a New Year's Resolution to blog more - so here's some photos of my new little flat for you to enjoy, or whatever. 

The one awesome thing about the dreaded moving process is discovering all the cool shit I own that's been overshadowed by my floor-drobe for the past year or so. Naturally there were moments during the year where I noticed a particular painting or cushion and thought "God, I'm so cool, look at all this shit I own - that's a fucking cool pillow, and it's fucking mine". But thought processes like that were routinely interrupted by "Wait, where the fuck is my (insert highly useful object destined to be buried under piles of clothing I bought but don't actually wear)?!"  

I'm going to leave you with my Unpacking All My Useless Shit playlist. Hope you're all following through on your Resolutions like I am - be tidier, check; blog more, check, check, check.

xo, CK

• Toxic (Britney Spears cover), 16 Bit
• Kaleidescope, Tiesto ft. Jonsi
• Keen on Boys, The Radio Dept. 
• Midnight City, M83
• Tongue Tied, Grouplove
• Jungle, Emma Louise
• Let Me Go, Oh Mercy

I found this among my grandmother's collection of kitschy religious figurines while on a weekend beach trip with my family. I don't know whether it's the fact that she's stomping on a snake or the fact that her arms are spread in a requisite "come at me, bro" pose, but I have never loved a piece of religious iconography so much. 

Here's my current Beach Weekend with the Family playlist:

• The Wolves (Act I and II), Bon Iver
• Willie, Cat Power
• Sleep, The Dandy Warhols
• Violet Hill, Coldplay
• Lust for Life, Girls
• Like Humans Do, David Byrne

Parklife

Alright. I've slept off the bitter wine flu I contracted at Bowler Bar's official after party (sort of) and the unofficial after party my friends and I enjoyed at Dragonfly, and now I'm ready to talk. Let me preface all of this by saying that I solemnly swear never to leave buying miniature bottles of vodka (to shove in my bag, because I am cheap and don't like paying festival prices for watered down vodka and lemonade) to the last minute, ever again. I bottle shop-hopped across Brisbane's Western suburbs and managed to find a bottle shop that had one - one singular miniature bottle - in stock, and I drank that one bottle within 15 minutes of entering the festival. 

To be honest with you, I hit up Parklife on a whim of sorts. My friend S and I were driving to some ungodly rural town at an equally as ungodly hour (for a week of work-sponsored shenanigans), talking about Parklife's sweet biscuits line up this year (MSTRKRFT, Nero, Lykke Li, mainly), and decided that we'd go. Cut to me, desperately trying to book tickets on my iPhone before giving up and calling my mum to ask her if she'd pretty please do it for me. 

I don't have much to say about the day itself - not out of any animosity for the event itself, because I had an awesome day with some awesome people listening to some awesome music - but merely because I've tried writing a paragraph about how cool beans my experience was, and it keeps coming out as pretentious fuckwittery. Long story made short, it was fucking awesome and, pending next year's line up, I'll be back, albeit with miniature alcoholic beverages that I was wise enough to procure beforehand and twice the amount of hand sanitizer.

Personal highlights included, but sure as fuck weren't limited to, Wolfgang Gartner, Feed Me, and Nero. But I don't even want to talk about the sadness that Example's entire fucking set inflicted on my soul. I won't even get into details about the shitty sound, or the irritating douchebags and their Oompa Loompa girlfriends.

As a side note, the pick up line of choice at the official after party seemed to be "Do you work in the industry or are you just here because you're hot?". Nice.

xo, CK