Too heavy for a Saturday morning? Perhaps.

‘Cause the thing is, you and the guys you hang out with may not really mean anything by it when you talk about crazy bitches and dumb sluts and heh-heh-I’d-hit-that and you just can’t reason with them and you can’t live with ‘em can’t shoot ‘em and she’s obviously only dressed like that because she wants to get laid and if they can’t stand the heat they should get out of the kitchen and if they can’t play by the rules they don’t belong here and if they can’t take a little teasing they should quit and heh heh they’re only good for fucking and cleaning and they’re not fit to be leaders and they’re too emotional to run a business and they just want to get their hands on our money and if they’d just stop overreacting and telling themselves they’re victims they’d realize they actually have all the power in this society and white men aren’t even allowed to do anything anymore and and and…

I get that you don’t really mean that shit. I get that you’re just talking out your ass.

But please listen, and please trust me on this one: you have probably, at some point in your life, engaged in that kind of talk with a man who really, truly hates women–to the extent of having beaten and/or raped at least one. And you probably didn’t know which one he was.

And that guy? Thought you were on his side.

- Morning Feminist Classic Kickstart: Kate Harding.

Craig has a friend who I do not like.
A friend who every so often makes his racist, misogynistic, homophobic, hateful views disturbingly clear.
I know, I know, Craig doesn't share these opinions and he just rolls his eyes and steers the conversation back to cars or pool or their primary school days. But I do still worry. I worry, I worry, I worry.

Oh Internet, you make me laugh,

but you also creep me out!

xoxo, Sarah-Rose

p.s. for the record, Craig and I are NOT brother and sister!
p.p.s. okay, yes, I have written in the past that our love feels more like incest (ew), but I also wrote it was like conjoined twins, like some metaphysical certainty, more than just a boy and a girl who fell together. so please, please, please look up the definition of simile because Internet? you're giving me a reputation!

Desert Road, New Zealand
August 2008



Normally I really dislike pylons, but I seem to love them marching across the wasteland of the central plateau like this.






Next week? Hawaii!

Sailor's Delight?

Sunday 2 August 2009

Week Thirty-One

Sunday
Craig spent most of the day watching the Matrix Trilogy* and I lay next to him, reading.


Monday
Wearing my new Sweet William Queenie brooch on my trench coat, I realise that I now have 2 different coats adorned with 2 very different representations of HRH QE2.


Tuesday
I've been spending my lunch breaks with my nose in a guidebook, highlighter or coffee in my free hand.
Surprisingly I have only drawn on myself once so far.


Wednesday
Silver, pale pink, white, pale grey, lavender, bone, a strange colour palette for me to be wearing.


Thursday
I almost forgot to take a photo.
This is Sebastian. He hangs out over our bed.


Friday
On the 7:05 train after two glasses of wine on an empty stomach.
Best idea ever.


Saturday
I spent a lot of the day ignoring the screeching of my inner book snob as I devoured Twilight**.


&






* Yes. Really.
** Yes. Really. I'm embarrassed. I just wanted to actually know what I was talking about when I scorned Twilight. By the end of book one I was curious enough to read about vampire sex and vampire babies to pick up book two but by page 422 of book 2 I was kind of hooked. And by kind of I mean a lot.
The movie is still one of the worst things I have ever seen and I highly doubt I will see any of the other movies (ugh) but the book has the same kind of badly written but gripping (ridiculous) storyline that led me to read the Da Vinci Code.
Sigh.