Yesterday was a fantastic day.

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I had my very first art class in Brighton yesterday, with @SeikoKato.

I’ve bought a few of her pieces from the Vintage Workshop in Kemptown so it was a complete honour to have a class with her.


The sculpture of a hand holding a blue eye, emerging from ruffled lace
is her piece.

I am being very lazy, I ought to take out the recycling. My room will double in size once I’ve gotten rid of the boxes from my move.

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I think I have a vision for what my little flat could be, as time passes. I’ve been very inspired by it and I’ve been looking through various hard-drives; I’ve found lots of old self portraits that I had almost completely forgotten about.

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In light of the fact, I’m putting together a magazine about Home-Making.

How ladylike of me.

Actually even though a magazine about Home-Making sounds rather archaic, it isn’t at all. I have about three memories of actually attempting cooking, the first being making cupcakes as a child. The second being at one of my secondary schools. We did Art of Hospitality classes once every few weeks, and I recall I was very finely chopping chilli – a bit stuck to my arm, I rubbed my eye and it got lodged beneath an eyelid. (You’ve no idea towards my capacity to take pain.) My mother cooked ready meals because she wasn’t interested in cooking. She spent most of her time not feeling well and the only thing I’ve ever known her to enjoy eating was bread, butter and the occasional custard pudding. The third memory is adding spices to my granma’s Mexican food.

Actually it’s the most subtly-feministy-shade magazine ever.

Years ago Germaine Greer did a talk at the Maltings, in which she discussed various means by which women could be more domestically efficient in an economy that was really struggling and I believe that opened up a lot of neural pathways for me and navigating living in a new town.

I don’t know anyone well enough to be talking about purchasing cleaning products in bulk without sounding completely insane but I enjoyed the idea of authoring my own little life-hacks. It’s a lot of fun for me to live by myself.

My magazine rather encourages women to have poor domestic habits but also more importantly to express themselves through their living environment – or at least realise that they’re doing so. It is the polar opposite, I think, of what one would expect from a magazine about “home-making”. At present it is… a hundred and seven pages but I don’t feel it’s complete yet. None of the pretentious crap that youtubers who have never been to finishing school like to sell/none of the pretentious crap that youtubers whose idea of hosting is a Christmas lunch.

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Speaking of which, I finally found a pretty good use for the submissions I got for Scribble Scribble Zine, of which there were too few to have financed publishing it at the time.
I was very sure I wanted the work to be printed, which is why I decided against posting the submissions on the internet. I believe very much in conservative print – I don’t want to print too many copies. The zine has been nestled in my hard drive for almost two years. Thinking perhaps, as if sentient, that I had forgotten about it; but not-at-all.

Here is the collage I made in my art class. “DON’T GIVE A FUCK” is sort of what I imagine the Sugar Baby’s motto ought to be but actually it’s a reference to an article on the Wu Tang Clan. It’s really a collage I think you’d need to see up close. I was thinking about Trunx and Thirteen.

I wore out my Faux-Real Louis Vuitton bag (it got the lady at the Job Centre quite riled up inside, it felt like she wanted an excuse to make me feel guilty? You know – how women tend to communicate mostly non-verbally?) that a relative brought back for me from Syria. I know it’s really ghetto to have fake designer items but I am pretty ghetto. (No arguments necessary but for my families history, I’m still probably more ghetto than Kenny from Southpark.)

I know that discussing negative experiences encourages them but I find that when I’m positive people start being quite nasty anyway. I’d say “you can’t win” but I think really, what does winning mean to anyone? If she did know it was fake, and was shocked or insulted about the fact – I’d of quite liked to invite a conversation with her about the ethics of fake designer items. This bag is not included in the bracket but did you know that some fakes are superior to the originals? Even if they’re technically not worth as much. (Some “fakes” are handmade by specialists, and some originals are made in factories. I imagine that when it comes to leather it’s all about the finish and how long it’s going to last for. This bag can hold heavy stuff – that’s what a bag is for. It does it’s job.)

Aside from that boring conversation.

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This is a Magazine I’ve kept since 2007. On the back is an anti-football advert by Diesel. It’s definitely mine. I took it along to the art class. I wasn’t sure of collage class etiquette so I brought it thinking it might be polite to share. I wanted to bring along an Araki catalogue but it’s kind of gone missing. (It is in my flat, but it’s hidden itself.)

The back of the magazine struck me a little bit because I was thinking, recently, that the Matrix trilogy deserves a version 4.0. It is curiouser, that the writing on the back of the Magazine – “Human after all” in white paint is exactly like the handwriting on my grandmother’s porcelain pieces.

I was quite inspired by Lust, for my self portrait is quite the homunculus. I’m not one for cosplay but I am one for adopting anime characters as style iconographs. (Is that a word? if it isn’t I couldn’t care less, I’ll leave it there.)

Here I am with Envy. Envy is also a homunculus and he is very effeminate and prone to getting quite jelly. Actually I don’t see him get jelly very often in the series but I do see that he is the epicentre for what turns out to be justice in a very corrupt province and that he does so through doing very terrible things. Though not to innocents – just to people who have a lot of friends, who are portrayed as the ‘good’ characters. The truth is you’d have to know individuals very intimately to know whether they were ‘good’ or ‘bad’ and apparently even that isn’t an adequate means of helping people make clear headed judgements of something as base as ‘good’ or ‘bad’. It’s almost as though people ought to study philosophy because it really helps you to work out how to estimate christian concepts of ‘good’ and ‘evil’. Not all sinners are evil – not all saints are ‘good’. (Actually i’m not sure that many saints are good – the kind of person that people are prone to liking is very VERY rarely a decent human being but does a great performance of pretending to be one.)

I’m pretty certain that you’re meant to regard Envy and Lust as related but but WHO THE FUCK CARES.

Don’t you think I need a matchymatchy boyfriend? Do I have any distant relatives that I didn’t grow up regarding as a brother or cousin (eurgh – honestly – worse -) to be matchy matchy with that will let me pick their outfits?
I’d love, love, love, love, looove having a matchy matchy boyfriend.
We’d wear corresponding outfits and hold hands everywhere, I imagine. We’d inspire all the anime.

There are no boys in Brighton at present who could successfully matchy matchy with me and help me tidy up my flat and sort out my recycling and quite frankly it is a source of tremendous disappointment. I mean what else do you do in relationships apart from go out holding hands, sort out recycling, invent cake recipes and watch cartoons together?

Psychoanalysing my favourite characters is literally how I bond with people. Also weed. Sadly I have not smoked weed in a long time. I might be the only sober person in Brighton.


Back to my art class!

These ladies were such lovely company.
I felt very obnoxious and loud in their company actually.


Published by KARINITA

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