People Who Get It: Jens Lekman

Once, I was bored of studying for exams and decided to shoot Jens an email on a whim. I asked if he was allergic to nuts. He responded the following morning that he was not and wondered if Toronto was full of them.
I started to imagine the city sitting on top of a nut-mine... which would explain how the squirrels always manage to dig up nuts everywhere on the ground!
I actually told Jens that. I think it freaked him out.

summer ghosting

I've never really been much of a fan of summer. Every time I have to go out in the sun, it has always been greeted with dread. So much dread.
In fact, the only time I really enjoy going out is when there's a torrential downpour.

Slightly lower temperatures allow for layering, and the rain usually calls for welly-wearing -- which is always a plus in my book!

However, I figured complaining about the heat (which is all I do, apparently) is no fun. "Summer", and therefore the freedom it brings, is almost at an end, and I realize, I haven't really done much summer frolicking!

So one day, Myra and I decided to finally embrace this damned season, put on swimsuits and head to the island. But of course, it poured that day, so we scavenged the St Lawrence market for statement accessories and communist paraphernalia instead.

When it cleared up later that day, we basked in the usually dreaded sun at the manmade beach down at Harbourfront, where the above instant photos were taken. The camera's default setting had the tendency to make me look like a ghost -- a summer ghost.

This past Friday, I ended up at the Danforth Music Hall for Purity Ring and Dirty Projectors.
Purity Ring is what I fancy Tom Lowery and I would be like if we were to pursue forming a [real] band -- weird and dream-like (complete with grotesque, anatomical lyricism with a cutesy spin -- haha, what?):

Seeing Dirty Projectors live made me all nostalgic and sad-like (but not really, Melody and I were actually quite giggly but that's a whole other story). Nostalgia did hit me inside, though; it "cut open my sternum and pull(ed) my little ribs around," kinda.


"Bitte Orca" oddly served as the go-to soundtrack for afternoon teas in Oxford. Very atypical, but things that don't usually seem right or proper end up being so apt sometimes. Life is funny that way.

This is how my Oxford kitchen looked like in the afternoons -- with Marie as a permanent staple. (I could lie and say the minimalist look was deliberate but you'd see right through it, anyway.)


Today happens to be Marie's birthday (whose back I've photographed too many a time), prompting the following nostalgia/mush-fueled photo-purge.

walking back to Worcester after the usual afternoon jaunt around Oxford (not without getting dinner at Jericho first, obviously)

Edinburgh

Rough Trade photo booth

Stratford-upon-Avon

Happy Sunday!

daydream delusion

Whenever I feel like I am in a rut of some sort, this poem usually takes me out of it:

(would have been) summer staples

summer staples by garbledupwords featuring ray ban shades

With the passing of seasons, it's difficult to ignore wardrobe planning. I made this set in spring on the cusp of summer -- when it seemed like it was going to be 25 degrees every day. Hence, the long-sleeved Marc by Marc silk blouse. Unfortunately, things don't always turn out the way you imagine. I finally tried on said blouse after months of thinking about it, but the sizing was off. Something is always off.

I've looked for mariniere shorts similar to the above, but the search also turned out futile. As for the Chloé flats, I haven't quite committed to them. They are lovely, but I don't really need to have them. On the other hand, the Wang "Diego" bag is something I've coveted (secretly, at first) for months.

And now, it is mine -- eep!