me, awkwardly failing the pencil test since… oh, 1997?
Today was our first bodypainting session. Our tutor Janet demonstrated a few techniques, painting a black corset with gold lace and roses, on one of our brave and gorgeous classmates (Jen), who was an awfully good sport about the whole thing.
Here’s the one photo I took, of everyone being pervy and taking photos of Jen with her baps out.
.
I asked Jen’s permission to upload this photo here, on my flog.
“Jen”, I said solemnly, “It is one thing to stand topless in front of 20 of your silent, gawping classmates for an hour while Janet paints your nips. It’s one thing to have a photo of your blacked-out rack all over Facebook, but quite another to have it on this, the greatest flog in all the land, a modern-day oracle, revered by titans of the cosmetic industry, creators, producers, artists, muses, rebels, waifs, designers, dreamers and lovers alike. Are you SURE you don’t mind me publishing this smartphone photo of your side-boob to the finest minds on the internet, my international audience of millions? Think carefully Jen, are you ready to become iconic, timeless, an indelible mark on the annals of cultural history, a part of the Imosphere… forever?”
Jen did one better. “Course it’s fine, I’ve got some better pics if you’d prefer to use those, I’m not shy!”
Then it was everyone else’s turn to strip off and give it a go. We are all much better acquainted now.
This is what I whipped up in my first attempt:
only took me like ten minutes, too. LOL, this is not, I repeat NOT, my work, I totally stole this image from … holy shit, I lost my reference page. Not good. Sorry, whoever this belongs to. UGH, this is the WORST blog etiquette, Imogen, the WORST. Not taking the picture down, mind, it’s too cool. Forgive me, blog gods.
Moving on, the afternoon class (Basic Makeup) involved me being cruelly separated from my beloved study-buddy Sinead, and paired with the equally delightful Magda:
hope y’all aren’t sick of these mirror photos, there are SO MANY more to come
who did this ‘basic 4-shadow blend’ on my mug:
everyone else in the class has nailed their ‘face for when a close-up photo is being taken of your makeup’ – not this guy.
And that was all in a day’s work, best beloved. I’m pooped.
A song before bedtime, you say? Go on.
Here’s Eels with The Good Old Days, from the album Shootenanny! (the exclamation mark is part of the album title, not just my enthusiastic punctuation). This song choice will surprise regular readers, who normally brace themselves for some terrible 80s hair metal at this time of the flog. I chose this song because I couldn’t get a link to All In A Day’s Work from the same album, and also because it’s beautiful, and nice and mellow for this time of night.
What is Shootenanny! doing in my CD collection, if I also own not one but TWO Iron Maiden albums? I’ll tell you. I was going to save this story for publication in a fucking epic post in which I interview myself, but let’s treat ourselves.
The most sensible new year’s resolution I ever had was to buy one new album every payday. I might reinstate that one actually, when I have paydays again that is, LOL. Anyhoo, Eels had a song on the radio that I liked, so I bought their album, loved it, then went to their show at the Thebarton Theatre in Adelaide, when they toured. This would have been about ten years ago.
Of every live music performance I have ever seen, and not to brag or anything but I have seen shitloads, Eels are the only band I’ve seen who kept playing after the show really was over. And I mean over. I don’t mean an encore. Lights were on, power was shut off, everyone had left. There was probably a lone wee guy sweeping up empty plastic beer cups. Still they kept going. My pal EJ and I were there until almost the bitter end; I don’t know how long they actually kept playing for, and the only reason I know for sure that they’re not still going on that very same stage is because I have seen other shows there since.
Anyway, Shootenanny! is a great album, and reminds me of… a time in my life that was technically a bit shit in a few ways, I hated my job for example, but music that makes you remember anything always makes you a bit fond, doesn’t it.
digital imologue 