I'm sure those of you with a tumblr will have seen a video of a bearded man in a plaid shirt passionately performing a spoken word piece entitled 'OCD'. I remember watching it and thinking "who is this man and why won't someone love me as much as he loves the subject of his poem?" Then I discovered Button Poetry and was opened up to the wonderful world of the spoken word, and of course this fine fellow named Neil Hilborn.
OCD Neil Hilborn - "I can't breathe because he only kisses her once. He doesn't care if it's perfect. I want her back so bad I leave the door unlocked."
One Colour Neil Hilborn and Renee Schminkey - "Do not confuse one story for all stories. Do not stare at a red dot and say 'the whole painting is just one colour.'"
Mating Habits Of A North American Hipster Neil Hilborn - "Observe how they keep their faces as relaxed as possible so as not to seem too invested in the activity at hand"
There isn't much that I can add to this other than professing my love for the above performances. The last is a slightly more satirical piece that is spot on, just to finish the post off. Go check out some more of Neil's work and the other fine artists on the Button Poetry youtube channel and the Button Poetry tumblr. It's well worth your time.
Sunday, 29 September 2013
Tuesday, 24 September 2013
Objects In The Mirror Mac Miller
So obsessed with this. Displaying an endearing vocal over a gorgeous instrumental produced by Pharrell (who else could create such a delectable blend of harmonies?) I could easily listen to this all day. Aside from the wonderfulness of the music, there is also some wise lyrics in there too. Mac uses the imagery of a girl to personify the overcoming of a personal addiction.
"People love you when they on your mind. A thought is love's currency."
P.s. Totes obsessed with his Most Dope Family episodes too.
Sunday, 15 September 2013
Thursday, 5 September 2013
This is my new favourite film ever, let alone being my favourite Frenchie. It's not just a love story, there's so much more and it's quite the emotional journey for both the characters and the viewer, underneath the surface of the drama. I was in tears at the end and, trust me, it takes a lot for a film to make me to cry when it doesn't have any animals in it. Srsly.
Starring Marion Cotillard (girl crush alert) and Matthias Schoenaerts (just plain crush alert), the film tells the story of Ali, a father to his young son and struggling with money, who on the off chance meets Stéphanie, a killer whale trainer. An unfortunate accident leaves her with both legs amputated, shown in a painstaking scene as Marion Cotillard drags her characters body across the floor in a flood of tears. Ali, on the other hand, begins fighting for money, a dangerous hobby he loves but that can also help him financially. Over time, they develop a close relationship; Ali helps Stephanie to get back on her artificial feet and Stéphanie accompanies Ali to his fights. The film hits its climax (in my opinion) at the end when Ali's son Sam is hospitalised, suffering from a coma. Ali realises the two most important people in his life are Sam and Stéphanie. He pleads "Ne me laisse pas" to her on the phone in the only fragile moment we see of Ali's character.
Here comes the tearjerker: The film closes with a heartwrenching dialogue from Ali. Sam was hospitalised after falling through the icy surface of a lake. Ali had to punch the ice to retrieve Sam (which was a sad enough scene in itself), fracturing the bones in his hands. The dialogue says "There are 27 bones in a human hand. Some monkeys have more. A gorilla has 32, five in each thumb. A human has 27. You break an arm, you break a leg, after a while calcium joins it back together. It may even end up stronger than before. But break a bone in your hand, and you'll see it never heals. You'll remember it at each fight, with every punch. You'll be careful. But one day the pain will come back. Like needles. Like glass splinters."...Pair that with the image of son and father holding hands and The Wolves by Bon Iver playing in the background and the tears will just flow.
Let's not forget how beautiful the cinematography is as well. The lighting, the shots, the stunning performances, oh and the soundtrack by Alexandre Desplat (how could I forget?!) are all perfect. Watch the film, even if you don't know a single word in French...come on, let's not be ignorant. It is so damn good.
Monday, 2 September 2013
I know girls who are trying to fit into the social norm, like squeezing into last year's prom dress
I know girls who are low rise, mac eyeshadow, and binge drinking
I know girls that wonder if they're disaster and sexy enough to fit in
I know girls who are fleeing bombs from the mosques of their skin
Playing russian roulette with death; it's never easy to accept that our bodies are fallible and flawed
But when do we draw the line? When the knife hits the skin? Isn't it the same thing as purging? Because we're so obsessed with death
Some women just have more guts than others
The funny thing is women like us don't shoot; we swallow pills, still wanting to be beautiful at the morgue
Still proceeding to put on make-up, still hoping that the mortician finds us sexy and attractive
We might as well be buried with our shoes and handbags and scarves, girls
We flirt with death everytime we etch a new tally mark into our skin
I know how to split my wrists to reveal a battlefield too
But the time has come for us to reclaim our bodies
Our bodies deserve more than to be war-torn and collateral, offering this as a pathetic means to say
"I only know how to exist when I am wanted"
Girls like us are hardly ever wanted you know
We're used up and sad and drunk and perpetually waiting by the phone for someone to pick up
And tell us that we did good
Well you did good.
(I know I am because I said am, my body is home)
So try this:
Take your hands over your bumpy lovebody naked and remember the first time you touched someone
With the sole purpose of learning all of them
Touched them because the light was pretty on them and the dust in the sunlight danced the way your heart did
Touch yourself with a purpose
Your body is the most beautiful royal
Fathers and uncles are not claiming your knife anymore, are not your razor, no, put the sharpness back
Lay your hands flat and feel the surface of scarred skin
I once touched a tree with charred limbs, the stump was still breathing but the tops were just ashy remains
I wonder what it's like to come back from that because sometimes I feel a forest fire erupting from my wrists
And the smoke signals sent out are the most beautiful things I've ever seen
Love your body the way your mother loved your baby feet and brother, arm wrapping shoulders, and remember
This is important
You are worth more than who you attract
You are worth more than a waistline
You are worth more than beer bottles displayed like drunken artefacts
You are worth more than any naked body could proclaim in the shadows, more than a man's whim
Or your father's mistake
You are no less valuable as a size 16, than a size 4
You are no less valuable as a 32a than a 36c
Your sexiness is defined by concentric circles within your wood
It is wisdom
You are a goddamn tree stump with leaves sprouting out
Get goosebumps every single time I listen to this. Lyrical poetry. That tree metaphor? Just a beautiful piece of work that every girl on the planet can relate to, I'm sure.