In a sponging gutter

Hello there Midnight babies.

No one is free to scoop me up for a Hot Cuppa. I'd go to a hotel or something to get one, but no one is free. Even if the hot chocolates on me. It's one of those nights where you need a friend around to dig in to conversations. Where are my besties? I miss em already. Too bad none of them are around, they are in better places for crying out loud. Man, i feel like a sad Tim Burton character. Except I'm craving for sweet things.



That would be good for me now. But i'm out of it.


Anyways, did i tell you i adore designspongeonline? It's got the greatest hippie turned neat, Corporate turned funky, Reggae's little Kitchen, and Godly sense of Creativity collectible items featured on the site. The person who blogs her incredibility? I'm guessing is one of those inspiring New York artists who welcomes the joy of raw and fractured artworks. She is like God. You give her an ugly couch and she throws in like all these weird combos of color and items, and you got stuff better looking than Harvey Norman. It's like a personalized live-life creatively home decor experience. I am totally inspired and in love with the look of it.












It's brilliant because it isn't complicated. The rooms all look like it is worth living in. It tells a story of passion, personality, and character. As compared to those interior design books where the rooms look perfectly engineered and untouched, design sponge creates life by outsmarting the dull with glorious colors and puzzled pieces to get to the beauty of abstract art. Example: Like putting bananas on a table and getting away with it. Damn these beings.

My mind is now sponging.




This is me sponging.

Earlier today, I went to the curve and headed for Living Quarters. I'm looking for a natural roar in the look. I'm looking for things that will make my new couch look awesome and cozy. To make it a sanctuary I can sit down and do my reading, laughing, hot cuppa-ing at. I managed to buy these really strange looking yet alluring pillow covers. Pardon my style, but I quite like this ensemble gathered today. Man, there's a journey to go to make things pretty huh?! This Mission is a MUSTTTT for me.





I'm not that proficient when it comes to the playground of ART, but i would like to think that i am close to that level. I need to keep sponging sponging.

Okay I think it looks like I got company for my hot cuppa.

Peace.

Uncommon Slapstick

I went for a Masquerade party lastnight.

It would've been cool if everyone dressed up for the occassion but the whole invitation didn't really highlight that bit of the night.

It was fun and funny. Jay was actually. He was like poppin and lockin, grooving to the silence of smokers, laughter, and permanent stares. He was the entertainment clown of the night. But too bad he collapsed in bed before any of us headed back. My impression of Jay has 360'd, from a quiet emo boy to a hardcore masquerade clown.



The Clowns on the left. Not the right.

It was a simple night, but good the way it was. Conversations were based on rare drags, music, poisonous laughter, and killing the awkwardness between strangers in the big SMOKEY room. It was pleasant though.

Then I thought to myself that I should throw one of these Masquerade parties one day. And that the dresscode should be taken more seriously by our very own voluntary bouncers. Won't that be cooler? Well scrap that, let's move on to the frolicsome images we have here.









It's been a while for girls like us. The ones that party poop.




Sup homeslice?






The Great Fall of Mankind



Murder at the utmost degree





Jay: How are my moves? Wasn't too good ay?
Me: What? Noooo..don't be hatin'..you were amazing right there. Jay-T mang.
Jay: Thanks, i'm gonna go get the hang of it now.
(he moves into the middle and starts to get his groove on)
Me: Yeah you go Jay. (I say, without a stir of confidence)


I'm getting hungry from blogging. Takes a lot of effort man. Sometimes when I feel rajin and all, I'll type with inspiration and passion and whatever ion there is in the world to describe that hardworking feeling. But now I feel like soup in a fancy bowl.

I'll leave you to this:






The Man of our 5 hours


so long, farewell.