Klarissa

.Writing .Singing & Playing .Illustration I'm a little restless, doing too little and thinking too much. Over time I've become many people and places, never unique and taking pride in knowing it too. I don't like standing on the path dead and dry from the feet who trod before me, staring down a line with beginning and end, while beauty continues to be vast and wild. I'd rather explore chaos and see where it carries me. I believe, if I crash to the rocks beneath I still have found my answer.

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This is a poem (I can't write anymore)

I can't write anymore.

I can't write anymore.

The ugly things that sounded beautiful sound grey.

No personality in my poetry.

Maybe I need to write.

I can't write anymore.

Maybe if I think of some trauma or adventure.

If in doubt imagine some.

Come on. Search your mind.

Search your mind.

Search Google.

Text indicator nagging at me with it's blink.

blink.

blink.

Like there's no time left.

It knows I can't write anymore.

Well fuck you, words always follow you around. 

Try being blank, blink.

I don't plan poetry but it always worked.

I never thought I'd have to plan for it to stop working.

Fuck it.

This is  a poem.

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- The Mamas and The Papas: California Dreaming

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Front page.

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Gadget sketchbook finally finished, just two more scrappy sketchbooks to go and then I can clean my room and do some laundry.

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Sketch for opposite project that I'll edit and watercolour at some point.

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One of the double page spreads for a children's poem assignment.

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Went to see the almost live theatre production of Frankenstein last night. Although I was really hyped up for it, I still was dubious about it, I knew nothing would come close to the novel (as always). At first the play looked like a piece of art, and my god was Johnny Lee Miller a brilliant monster. They stood true to most of what the novel was about, but then it started getting a bit strange, and for a fan a little irritating. they daemonised the monster further than was due in the novel, to the point where you had little or no empathy for him, defeating the point.

Anyway in a nutshell, production and direction from Danny Boyle was superb. Johnny Lee Miller is a beautiful actor. The script was crap.

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Hey, I know I haven't been posting enough, and don't in general, but I'm back!

It's easter holidays and I rinsed my bank out on this beauty. Enjoy x

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A Personality.

Tonight I can't write,

My father appals me.

A keyboard is stagnant.

My boyfriend ignores me.

I feel like I'm ugly,

And I don't feel progressive.

I'm a self-centered bitch,

Who's paranoia's impressive.

I have a disease, or some kind of excuse,

For hating myself and adopting abuse,

To come to terms with the things I can't quite comprehend

An idealistic romantic with a cynical end.

Even Ehrmann's wisdom must've confessed

On the path to find happiness, you must first be depressed.

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Face of War - Salvador Dali

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Terrible piece of crap I was meant to do for uni ages ago but just slammed together in the last hour. Sweet.

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"excrements always depend more or less on what one has eaten"

Salvador Dali

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Embrace - Egon Schiele

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Salvador Dali and Walt Disney collaboration. Stunning.

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A man died..

on Friday March 25th. I only found out what his name was on the Monday when I walked into university and saw a memorial plaque with his photograph standing by the door on the way out. I never spoke to him, but I saw him nearly everyday. Middle-aged with long, grey, wiry hair, guitar on his back and a smile on his face. I walked past the plaque and stopped, walking back in again just to make sure I wasn't contorting my reality. I was busy that day, and everything I looked at would become blobs of colourful short term memory in passing.

I didn't know him, but for some reason, the kidnapping of the little I knew of his personality really got to me. I became a bit consumed by it for the rest of the day. I started asking people if they found it as overwhelming as I did or if they knew how he died, everyone just laughed at how emotional I became about a man who shouldn't mean anything to me. Later on that evening I was looking online, typing his name in the search engine on the university's website. Having found 7 hits on his artwork, I clicked through to the links and was greeted by numerous pages of error. They already wiped everything associated with him. Like he never existed.

He was very real to me.

The man who I never spoke to, but who's death skimmed a pebble across the waters in my mind. As a stranger I can't promise I will always remember him, but I will always remember the closeness of a smile, and the impact of it's passing.

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Birthday present from my brother. Green Man Pendant. :)

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I'm officially 19. Just thought I should take this time to share with you one of the greatest, and probably the most cringey moments in The Supranos.