Update

I am planning to use this blog less, and move to http://sovietbrat.blogspot.com/

It feels as if I am moving houses, or using this blog merely as a summer vacation home. I am feeling quite enthusiastic about my new blog 'Soviet Brat' and I am hoping to post much more content, more frequently. I am still in the midst of customizing it, and scanning various things on it. I am trying to make it more like an online zine, so hopefully it works

xx Zsuzs

cHildhood tRash/rash

wHite nOise- (depressed teen with internet access)

  

White noise, silence.
The drumming of fingers along plastic edges,
the public service announcements filled
with nervous breakdowns,
(public service causing families to be torn apart)
the shredded strings of her words,
as she chokes, as she tries
to say "no', to say "yes",
to live both in heaven and underground.


I wasn't making a point, 
I never said a word


White noise, too loud.
The silence filled with too many words,
craving too many answers to be fair.
The sharp tongues raising blunt minds,
The sensitive blood harboring
low frequency denials from
the high pitch screams of her mom.

I am not raising my voice, 
I never said a word

White noise, too low;
too low to reach  (reach, reach, reach)
too low to hold    (hold, hold, hold)
too low to hear    (her, her, her) 
unless we all fall.
White noise. nothing.


I am nothing, 
I never said a word 
I never saved the world

The Sun was never the brightest star; she's just arrogant.

Turn away, turn, turn against the sun
against the velvet voices playing in your sun
turn, turn towards the shadows, that line your lips
line the pale blue retina gazing up.
turn, turn, counter-clockwise to counteract.
turn, turn with gravity stroking your neck.
turn, turn and I'll steal your sun away.

Photos taken in Slovakia, 2011

For a lack of /words/worlds/worsts?

I adore the switching, stitching, mending and moulding of cultures;

how the Japanese and Korean culture, once influenced by the West (especially during the Meiji and the American occupation period in Japan) is now a major influence on every Western middle class white female teens (like myself) blog. It is a never ending circular pattern of pinching a drop of culture and injecting it into the veins of the decade.

*I apologize for the lack of posts and the lack of words to explain it. I am just swapped with the frustrating need to create and a frustrating amount of work from the land of academia

                       

Kawaii Whores- photoshoot #1

Model- Rach

Clothes- Random assortment of sorts

On the weekend we dressed up kawaii, were followed around by a 48 year old lacking social skills in the city, chewed old disintegrating gum, had our disinterested faces on, looked down, looked up and fell for some cheap shots.  

mIcrOscopic

Magic mushrooms staining your tongue to a unicorn vomit rainbow, psychedelic halluncinations, eyes washed out with food dye- all ways to see incredible colour, but the microscope is even more of an overwhelming 70's style colour extravaganza. Out of shear boredom today I stained some salt particles and took some photographs of the psychedelic wonders through my microscope. Who needs acid man when you have sodium chloride? xx Zsuzs

NannY StyLe

After a few fashionable hours watching the Nanny, it first made me incredible envious of Fran's hair, as mine resembles the flat and greasy field sludge at the bottom of a McDonald's cooker.  I never keep watch of my hair just like Fran never keeps watch of the kids. But another observation I made through my technicolour, pixelated 2am eyes were the amazing textures and colours of the clothes in the show. 

From fake fur that looks like a muppet, run over multiple times whilst on a cocaine binge, to the fabric that looks the same to the ones on the sofa's always covered in plastic by your aunt due to her irrational fear that you'll either commit ritual suicide/seppuku on it or spit on it, or even worse- spill your drink upon it. 

The whole style is just so amazing and eccentric. It is like the whole 90's style is crammed into one show, from the baby doll look of Maggie to the neo-80's style fluro worn by Gracie. And ofcourse, the style icon herself, Yetta, who mixes just about every decade together to create an eye-orgasmic, retina frothing outfit. Shoulder pads, sequins, bright tights- the Nanny is exploding with inspiration, and brimming with tears just like a someone who has been poked in the eye several times...in a stylish manner ofcourse. So I think I'll keep watching the Nanny and pick up all the little fashion tips. It is the year to be eccentric and quirky, novelty and kitsch is in. It is time to bring back the 90's and add a few more drops of food colouring to make it stylishly over the top.  Even though we often dismiss Fran's style as too much, her style is actually one of bizarre yet controlled harmony. She knows that it looks too much but she plays it down. 

I think I most adore Gracie's style and its evolution, starting off sweet and quirky and ending in somewhat of a minimalist style by the end of the show, where she mixed up the preppy fabrics with a Parisian schoolgirl influence. I found this both adorable and an interesting mixture. And ofcourse who could forget Maggie's baby doll cardigan and mini skirt combo with cute blonde locks that slowly transformed into a minimalist heroin chic look. So switch on your Tv's and switch over to some novelty styles, the Nanny is your must watch and must wear. 

xxoxoxo bby Zsuzs 

*All images found on google (my first time not using original photos...hooray)

Bathing, Breathing

Photos from my soon to be forgotten vacation. Komarno. 2011

Staring down, starring role

she nods along.

Myths that show 

their meek and dirty smiles,

unfurling in your sweating

palms. 

The bathroom tiles exhale and inhale

as I stand upon them, the pressure reaches

the radiating yet silent breaths 

rushing, itching, nearer and nearer

the ticking, ticking click of the sore

and blunt tongue, shaded to a hot 

chemically artificial pink 

And she breathes, 

she shakes

she shivers

she wins/

The bathroom is still. 

Soviet manufactured 1983 tiles

(made in Estonia)

shatter, and break

and her bones shiver

and breathe. 

ACID kittY

She's got a face for radio

Photobooths are my favourite places in the whole, entire, exponential, infinite universe. I adore capturing those little emotions, those unseen facial twists, of pretending that you are someone else. The feeling of having your own moment in your hands is really quite comforting. 

xx Zsuzs

Mind your Television

My cousin's head is filled with the television shows and tv guide times, it is quite worrying really...she's got to be more 'mindful' of dangers of staring too close, too much at the screen.

Model- Cousin
Clothes- Rags

The Soviet Dream/American nightmare

The lone balcony plant. The lone underwear drying. The lone 40 year old smoking. Soviet Buildings, although they may look like bleak, weather-withered and grey lego blocks, are a thriving place of life in Eastern Europe. I grew up living in these microcosms of life, where interactions are removed from the outside world. The inhabitants of these little blocks form a community, a community of the survivors of the USSR, a community of colour and individuality beneath the peeling and popping lead paint. Systems that organize the daily outings of 50 year old could have beens, with Lycra jumpsuits and weathered faces; the weekly letters to relatives living in far away corners of the West, way past the iron curtain; the forthnightly rodenticide scattering/rat dropping collecting in the basements; the monthly meeting of sweet chipped neighbourhood kids. People always have such a negative view towards communism, the reds under the beds, yet it was an era of a stronger and more cloistered community, where desperation lead to a desperate need for spirit and hope.
 There is just something so mythical and mystical about these buildings- the shells of a long gone lone era, the skeletons of a infamous time, the leftovers of a system that ate away the 'Eastern Dream'.

A timid hello from a timid grrrrrl

I am Zsuzs. I like the taste of air at 3am. I like to wander in supermarkets full of life and direction. I like meat packages and price tag descriptions. I like to watch girl on girl action at 4am. I would like the riot grrr movement to breathe into this decade. I like collecting the skeletal shells of insects. I like meat on my flesh not on my plate. I like to dislike. I like to run to nowhere and from nothing and to no one. I like low key factory gigs with fresh smoke to choke on. I like sashimi and Japanese little boys. I like over the top, kitsch/novelty clothing. I like stickers on my face, in my hair, on everything. I like 90's videos and images that are overly contrasted, and have peculiar hues. I like veins under water and weird cuts/ bruises. I like bosoms. I like groupies and fallen idols. I like to read about tragic lives and suicides. I like to read newspaper obituaries. I like to watch flowers decay. I like to write poetry on toilet paper rolls and play on distorted, out of tune guitars. I like fullstops. I like 1969. I like to read about pharmaceuticals. I like to collect mushrooms. I like to develop photos. I like Soviet architecture/buildings. I like communist fashion. I like second-hand books. I like polly pocket. I like liking things.

xoxox byeeee