Young? Never mind

Credits: last photo Franciscan Church, Wschowa, Poland

The Subject of Desire part 1

I hardly desired to possess a nineties-styled black leather backpack but it seemed to be an impossible mission to complete in this stinking, rotting little town. And a miracle happened. He went up to their attic, and found his older sisters' leather backpacks. He's got two older sisters, twins, actually. So can you count? Yes, exactly. Two. He has presented T W O B L A C K leather backpacks to me. Nineties-styled, somewhere between a ragged, high school library rat and a nineteen-year-old post punk, dark witch.
How happy I am.
The Adventures of Johnny, the Black Backpack.

The other's coming soon.

How an ironic note becomes reality

Some months ago I was joking about having this book for my birthday. Minimalism and Fashion by Elyssa Dimant. I said this is the book WE ALL must read promptly, definitely a must-have book. And do you know what happened? CAN YOU IMAGINE?
The sweetest person  (yes, singular, be happy, NOT plural - yes, this was a secret message to him) in my life bought this for me to my h-u-g-e surprise, ordered from England through amazon.co.uk and I've received it a few days ago via post. As an alien this arrived, you know, I wasn't expecting a package, this big package. Ah, this book is stunning... and became my Bible, really. Thank you.

I am a terrible blogger

Credits: Maison Martin Margiela, North by Northwest, unknown

Saved

Credits: Angel 3: The Final Chapter, The New York Ripper, unknowns, song Grace Jones: Saved

Blood Pressures

I am older, again. I always live through my birthdays as a tragedy. I feel myself even more blighter. My luck is that there are some amazing people around me who try to make my big day fun, you know, every dog has his day. Usually they succeed in doing it and I forget about getting older and merge in the joy that this is the day when we can spend more and more money on crap, superfluous and silly things. So this was a good birthday, again.
Thank you for the cool new memories and presents.
Like this azalea - and some Jim Beam & Cola at the lakeside. Nice.

Plus one extra note. The new The Kills album. Genius, as always. This is my number one favourite track of it, it's on my "Don't give up" jogging playlist, too. I guess The Kills is one of the coolest bands ever, and I wish I could kill the guitar this cruel.
This is what I really feel recently: Future starts so slow.

This blog is completely useless

Rate on a 1-10 scale how much. Eight?


John McClane knows the ropes.


You mean, you got a life?

NOTE: Actually I do not hate everything that is driven by fashion, I do not completely agree with Mr. Dieter Rams. But anyway, this is a very interesting phrase, makes me think.

Changes, damnit

As you may noticed, the name of the blog has changed.
This is a tryout.
Maybe I'll change it again soon, maybe I won't.
I'm in a highly changing period, strange and scary sometimes.
Soon there'll be a new URL and Facebook account.
FOLLOW the blog.
Thank you for being here.

The end of my false religion is near!

I am,
Anna Kazmanowski, back in 2009.

THE END OF
FALSE RELIGION
IS NEAR!

What is my false religion?
Reproducing.
I am bored of reproducing only other's art.
I'll create mine. Thousands of ideas are swirling inside me and I feel like a surging ocean locked in like botled fruits. I need to break out. Need some fresh air.

The blog will change.
Its name will change.

These days blogging about fashion is too fashionable.
Boring.
This whole thing bores me to death.
I've changed.


I want to pay more attention to other things -
My things.
My ideas.
My brainchildren.
I want to be more selfish.
Self-exposing.
Naked.
You know.

Soon.

Did you hear about the Midnight Rambler?

ALBUM VERSION: ALBUM VERSION: ALBUM VERSION:
Well you heard about the Boston...
Honey, it’s not one of those...
Talkin’ bout the midnight... Shh...
Did ya see me jump the bedroom door…
I’m called a hit-n-run raper, in anger...
Or just a knife-sharpened tippie-toe...
Or just a shoot-em-dead, brain-bell jangler
Everybody got to go
Credits: unknown, Conceptual Art, unknowns, by Robert Mapplethorpe, punk girl, Blank City, unknown