there's nothing happening on Jupitar

 I went to New York for my 18th a couple of months ago and it was as stupendous and as silencing as I remembered it was. I say silencing because we hardly spoke whilst we were there. I just didn't feel the need to over use the word "love" the whole time to express how I felt about it all. I think I'm coming to a point where I truly understand the honesty that lies in saying nothing. Or it could just be argued that I don't have anything brilliantly poetic or witty enough to say about my meanderings around this planet............... 

Half the photos were taken on film the other half are digital. If you care enough to know. BECAUSE I DO. 

 Nobody told me about the ceiling at Grand Central. The whole ceiling is painted with the zodiac in gold. Some guy noticed my astonishment at the place and recommended I take a look at their chandeliers pointing out how they're 'really old, almost 100 years'. I didn't have the heart to tell him that as an English gal, 100 years is nothing. 

 Breakfast at Tiffany's. Literally. It was about 5am. A guy gave me a free doughnut.

 By far, my favourite piece of artwork in the world. I stood here for so long just watching it. There's something so honest about the way he painted what was right in front of him. But it's still so filled with imagination. Though who's to say that just because it's in your imagination, it is not honest. 

 Last week I saw a photo of Yoko Ono right here. Our footsteps have walked the same space. 

 MOMA staircase.

 One of the views from our hotel room at the East Standard (it was too cool for me BUT THE VIEWS ROCKED) I saw Conspiracey Thoery just before I went so I was literally squeeling when I saw the red and white towers. 

 No I did not put the camera on self timer and go to sleep for two minutes getting the most realistic shot.   Gawd.

I did. 

 My Rookie Mag crowns of love.

 Nobody becomes famous in des moines.

 Where Harry met Sally.

So since returning from the land of Oz, I finished my A Level art subjects and now just have a couple of written exams. So I've spent every waking moment either revising in the library or staring into space in the library. I have days where I enter a state of otherwordlyness and I realise that every living thought in my brain has died and there is no escape from the emptyness of this life. It's getting boring now. So when this happens I watch a film (recently seens include: Midnight In Paris, Melancholia, The Help, The Avengers, The Virgin Suicides, Lost In Translation "LIP MY STOCKING", Kaboom) and go into a zombie zone of speaking only in quotes from the film and stealing journals from the library and bags full of books from the street................ 

It's an escapist thing. Hmmmm

These are from a magazine called Film. It had James Dean on the cover.

These are all from old back copes of NewScientist that I'm almost 100 percent certain were going free from the library. Anyway I thought they were marvelous.

 These are just as they come. Points of interest if you will. I'd rather not write anything. Any potentially poetic abilities that were there are no longer.