it seems a little too quiet on the streets of late, rain and other stuff holding people back but still quiet. as the winter sets in everyone goes down into their cave and thinks about what's next.
plenty of shows, not that i go to them but still, plenty of them. bastardising the rawness into quiet squares and galerie pour le amusement ou nouvue bourgeoisie . not that it's a bad thing, but it definately isn't that good either.
the council here now has so much money from the blossomming rates, reaping in with their fat little tentacles, pouring it into yarra city council sponsored grafitti buffing crews. they may be black that dont mean shit to me but you've got a black heart. by laws to protect the walls please.
Lovers of the art lite you can please all go back to prahan. Isn't there more fake tan range there.
But you never will. you want the desert of the real.
All there is to be done is to pick up the pieces and carry on. petite a petite. For what it's worth i hope you enjoy what is left. There is still plenty. Skin and bones, the flesh is gone, the blood all drunk and the smile hollow and cool.