vening peoples of inter-world.
It’s been another ‘longer than id like to address’ stint of un-blogging lastingness, since my last rant about God knows whom or what. But I’m back with some fresh film content, that I happen to find lightly stimulating and I hope you will too. And there’s a rhyme…of which you can never have too many.
So as much Id rather bottle it up, to the point of your run-of-the-mill Mauna Loa eruption (as per usual Raphy standards). I thought it be novel, to discuss (or more so, verbal vomit) on the treacle, thats been clogging the cogs of my vitality.
Thus far, the entirety of the the year of the sheep, has been nothing short of shite. Excuse the Francais. OK, so I lied. My prized Henrietta hoover does now dwell in a more luxurious abode than most, in the shape of a 200 year old antique armoire, carved by a flock of cupids. BUT thats pretty much all that springs to mind, in the ‘pro’ quota of current reasons to live.
YES, that sounds petty dark indeed, but I’ve been in a pretty dark place…. Like Buffalo Bill, in the full night vision gogs get up, accompanied by some spooky ass, symphonic breathing notes by Clarice, kinda dark.
Just minus the cargo load of butterflies…..mmm… Butterflies would definitely brighten a few things up around here.
Though I’m sure they wouldn’t do much for my health, of which is currently peaking at a level of utter-naf. Meanwhile my brains loitering in a bleak-ass no mans land, on the will she-won’t she go belly up minefield.
When your body behaves in such a way it’s a disappointing. Times that by 6 months and you’ve got your self a foolproof zombie. Complete with but benumbed soul and spaghetti for brains.
Not to mention the ever churning, anxiety wheel of self employment. (My absolute favourite portion, of this whole palaver). Bringing in the bug bucks, in a profession that relies on no one, no unions and no security blanket, that covers the 4 corners of the earth and beyond, is a graft. But when you can’t begin to get out of bed in the morning, thats when you’ve got your self a real problem.
Sadly/annoyingly (insert appropriate adjective here), when your health is SO detrimental to your living, you fall into one of life’s great clauses. A paradox that disables your focus on vital treatment and/or recovery, because your brains too preoccupied with ‘achievements’ and new washing machines.
Well not so much washing machines, they bore the balls off me. But most definitely a kettle, of which we’re currently running a major shortage of here in the McNamara household, since setting the last one alight… Yes…On actual fire… Just another achievement to add to the board of ‘Raphaella.. Just Wow’. And another one of lifes great mysteries still unanswered.
Anywho, here’s a handful (if your the Jolly Green Giant) of images to keep you engaged, until next time. When hopefully The Grand old Duke of York will have ceased from marching his ten-thousand thoughts round my head and ill have assembled them into a half legible paragraph.
Photography by Ian Allaway
With love and floral flavoured dramas, Raphaella x