"Blogging isn't journalism, it's graffiti with punctuation."

>photo blog #7: warsaw

>WARSAW, POLAND

july 26-29, 2006


the shapes the city of warsaw imprint upon the sky.


the colours of an ancient city completely rebuilt.


even us ladies kickass at break-dancing!



look at her go, bitches!


okay, the men are sorta good too.


the street buskers bop across our hearts.


the reds, the oranges, the golds, the yellows.


i absolutely adore this photo, i’m so proud of it. when i saw the doorway leading through the alley, i aimed my camera, and just as i snapped, those people at the other end walked in the shot, rendering it a whole, complete photo, loaded with heart. i should sell this photo, really.


maybe all the clocks are wrong.


the polish hang out the windows, smoking fags.


i contemplate hanging out my window, but the sun is too brilliant.


this dude dressed as a beer mug was just strutting down the street, totally john-travolta. not handing out flyers, not bothering the people…just strutting.


at night, the colours of warsaw.


outside my door, the colours cat-call me.


lenin.


trotsky


che.


after a day of searching, i finally found the last remnants of the jewish ghetto wall, buried within an apartment complex, completely deserted, quiet, and sobering.


this explains it all.


the energy of the bricks, the emotion flowing up my skin.


rest my head against the wall, tear-up.

those who died from starvation and disease inside these walls…they’re still in there, always wondering what it’s like on the outside.


3 fucking metres high.


and imagine another metre of barbed wired sitting at the top.


even the polish are waiting for godot.


one of these russian dolls is not like the other…one of these russian dolls just doesn’t belong.
can you tell me which russian doll is not like the other by the time i finish this song?


pepto bismal: relieves cramps, bloating, and irritability.


my last night in warsaw, after the infamous game of jenga, my u.k. crew and i went out clubbing. here’s moi-même and carys. look at her and tell me she’s not stunning!
absolutely stunning, this girl. if i was a lesbian (and her boyfriend johnny wished i was), i would totally do her.



so we said we’d pull sexy faces, but only dan and i really tried. from left to right, it’s johnny, joe (aww), moi-même, and dan.


aww, look how cute we are…as this shot was about to be snapped, i remember the sensation of joe’s hand slipping around my waist. kind of slowly slinking around my torso, searching for a spot to rest. i don’t know why, but i remember that.


oh johnny, you rebel, you!


hello baby joe. rock out with your (massive) cock out.


this is how british boys chair-dance.


i love how the light is dancing in johnny’s arms. this shot is amazing.


this first time joe touched my legs…later on in prague, as we sat on the steps of my hostel, i would experience his lips on my legs.


he hates this shot, and begged me to delete it . . . it’s his “uh-this-is-me-trying-to-pull-a-sexy-face” pose . . . i think he looks yummy.


this is what a can of COKE looks like in warsaw’s mcdonalds.


this shot would be perfect if a lightning bolt wasn’t coming outta my face.

that’s right, bitches, i’m zeus!!

but joe looks smokin’ in this shot.


oh dan. oh danny boy. your smile is so goofy, so gay, yet so good.


dance christine.



dance christine!!


dance!!!


the blur of a red-lit sweaty club.


hey joey jo jo, you wanna grab my lil’ ass?


i said GRAB IT!

GRAB IT!!!!!


strike a pose, carys, you sexy minx. vogue!

—-

one of the biggest things i’ve noticed since being back in toronto is the onslaught of commercials we actually have on tv. swiffer mops and fast food tacos and beer and toothpaste and designer clothes and reality tv promos and entertainment trash-mags and acne medication and skittles.

when away, you forget how much corporate advertising you are exposed to. you don’t miss it. you feel quite soulful, away from the consuming frenzy, no need to shop and spend money.

you come back, and it sticks to your skin like a greasy ooze.

it makes you sick.

and all you can think about is jumping on the next plane out of here, not telling a soul where you’re going, just disappearing, and wondering how long it will take before someone notices you’re gone . . . notices that you’ve disappeared into the blur of the earth.

never return.

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4 responses

  1. The saddest thing is that for as bad as the advertising is in Canada, I’m always surprised at how much worse it is in the States. Not that it makes it any better or anything.

    September 17, 2006 at 6:43 PM

  2. >The saddest thing is that for as bad as the advertising is in Canada, I’m always surprised at how much worse it is in the States. Not that it makes it any better or anything.

    September 17, 2006 at 6:43 PM

  3. Love the Europe photos. Hate how they f’ up my computer. 😉When I go to Europe, I’m going Estima-style!

    September 17, 2006 at 10:38 PM

  4. >Love the Europe photos. Hate how they f’ up my computer. ;)When I go to Europe, I’m going Estima-style!

    September 17, 2006 at 10:38 PM

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