Keeper of the list

I've been a little light handed with blog posts of late. I've been hitting the straps and trying to whip through my to-do list, at last count I have only 11 days to go.

I've been quite successful with some parts of my list, namely socialising, eating butter, gossiping with gaggles of friends, spending money, writing, trying on shoes, selecting books to read, downloading podcasts, watching crap telly with my Mum and trying out a Zumba DVD.

I've been rather too successful at ignoring the less than savoury elements of the list - travel insurance, exchanging cash, find an international sim card, talking to the bank, submitting visa applications, culling through my clothes to prep for packing.

Actually I'm starting to panic with the things I need to do.

Yet I'm not panicked into action. I know I'll regret this in a week's time. But it's so much more enjoyable to sip on free-trade coffee beans and watch Barry Otto mime "Light All My Lights" whilst swinging his hips and twinkling his toes.

I can't wait to hear more music from Seeker Lover Keeper, I also can't wait to get through this bloody 'to-do' list, so it's off to the bank I go.

208 minutes

I've been nattering on this week about having lots of pots on the boil; and just as I'm about to dash off out the door to a track session, I'm catching up on podcasts, flicking through emails, stretching my calves, editing some writing, nibbling on an english muffin, tying my laces, sending a text and snooping around blogs.

The pots are positively boiling over.

In the middle of this calamity I read this:

The 'Time Wasting Experiments' are an ongoing series of letterpress prints I've been producing which document time wasted. These are in part inspired by tracking 'billable hours' but also come from the compulsion to always be doing things and producing objects. This series is a sort of audit of how I spend my time, but the prints could also be thought of as permission slips allowing you to spend a period of time in a wasteful way (maybe recontextualizing a private, shameful activities into something which one tries to get done in a set amount of time).

For all my productivity, I'm getting bugger all done.

I think the best way to shut off the urge of being 'productive', is to slip into some apathetic ennui and watch the trashiest thing I can find. Luckily for me Million Matchmaker is on tonight. Booyah.

Make a note of it

I write notes for myself on surgical gloves, forget, then dispose of them after I've finished with the patient.

I tried keeping notes on pieces of paper but I kept losing my clipboard, so I jotted down info on pieces of scrap paper and kept them in my pockets like a squirrel. The wads of paper would crease and crinkle as i walked around the ward. Awkward.

Now I mostly write on my skin - handwashing means that this too is fallible method. I could always take a leaf from Louie Mckirdy's book and write notes in more obscure places, like my thigh, but that could lead to bizarre bedside mannerisms.

Louie writes notes on his thigh so frequently that he got a tattoo of a notepad there. I thought this a mighty cute idea. So does this person it seems.

[courtesy of benependent]

Now I must remember to buy some wrapping paper...

Lady of Leisure

I’m going to be working for the next nine days straight, so I decided that I needed to indulge in a spot of luxuriating laziness today.

Starting off with a visit to the Sweets Workshop, I broke a sweat just taking a mental stock-take of all the gorgeous art I wanted to buy. My heart (and future pay packet) was robbed by Kate Banazi’s series of Victorian Gents.

As I was on my way Bourke Street Bakery, I passed a place that my sister and I have been calling the ambiance café. With a pair of antique winged-back chairs upholstered in lime green velvet sitting on the sidewalk – we’ve been meaning to check it out for months now.

Already savoring the thought of richly bitter coffee and buttery pastry awaiting me, I suddenly decided that I needed to mix things up. Turning the car around, I headed back.

I still don’t know it’s actual name – so I’ll continue to call it the ambiance café. But it wasn’t the industrial meets granny chic setting that justified its namesake – it was the super friendly staff. Booty shaking to Beyonce and experimenting with tangy fruit juice concoctions, they bubbled with chatter.

Even though I was stuffed from a Portuguese Chicken burger, like any practiced lady of leisure I had enough stamina for a spot of afternoon tea.

The Tea Parlour hasn’t been opened long, but it has the feels like stepping into a little old lady’s sitting room. A cozy affair of mismatched chairs and soft armchairs, the vibe is deliciously feminine with crystal chandeliers, silver candlestick holders, fresh roses and china tea sets. Surveying the scene is a stuffed peacock.

A soundtrack of Kanye West and The Kinks reminds me that I’m still in Redfern and not at a CWA meeting.

It felt like I was performing highway robbery when I was charged only $6 for two enormous homemade scones, served with generous dollops of jam, lashings of freshly whipped cream and washed down with a massive pot of Chai.

It felt delightfully decadent to sip from china cups...and so worth the painfully stuffed belly ache that followed.

Sch-weet!

I'm bogged down in blogs.

I'm sure there's a more elegant and "hip" word to describe the insatiable compulsion of clicking on blog links.

Luckily i have a weak will, take pleasure in procrastination and continued to bludge in front of the computer, as i found another set of beautiful graphic i found courstey of a link from John DC's blog.

Introducing Emma Jane - according to her bio "Much of my work is collage based, I relish getting away from the computer and doing things by hand."

These are just some of the gorgeous images featured on her blog, like John DC her work can be found at Sweets Workshop in Summer Hill. Sch-weet!

Polar bear & baby beats

Wall Flower

Vertical Farming

Now i really must resist hopping onto another blog.