AUBREY NOT AUDREY.

“In the present age, alas! our pens are ravished by unlettered authors and unmannered critics, that make a havoc rather than a building, a wilderness rather than a garden. But, a lack! what boots it to drop tears upon the preterit?”

Aubrey Beardsley.

AUDREY NOT AUBREY.

Audrey Kawasaki, you're okay.

DO YOU BELIEVE IN TIME TRAVEL?

PLEASE PERV: http://www.graveface.com/bmsr_darkbubbles/

NEW YORK.

Welcome home ladies.
NYC - I can't wait to meet you.








"I woke up as the sun was reddening; and that was the one distinct time in my life, the strangest moment of all, when I didn't know who I was — I was far away from home, haunted and tired with travel, in a cheap hotel room I'd never seen, hearing the hiss of steam outside, and the creak of the old wood of the hotel, and footsteps upstairs, and all the sad sounds, and I looked at the cracked high ceiling and really didn't know who I was for about fifteen strange seconds."

OH HIGH, SLUMS, I DIDN'T SEE YOU THERE.

Fuck the World Cup.
Fuck hard drugs. Fuck anti-soft-drugs. Pro fucking choice.
Place of birth should not render you helpless. Fuck.
Fuck I sound like Jean-Jacques Rousseau.

COCOROSIE.

A MOMENT OF ORGANIC ECSTASY.

In a careless moment of limbo between consciousness and sleep, your dreams drift around your periphery while your mind struggles with the futile nonsense of thoughts once sown. It was here when reality exclaimed for just a mere second. Finding a thought you could not afford to lose, your fingers delivered to you a black marker and the palm of your hand. There you write of words that in the morning are nonsensical, but for tonight, are an epiphany resting in the palm of your hand.