Caveat Calcei

BarelyKnitTogether: Words For Summer

Wed, 01 Jun 2011 19:44:27 +1000

Limpid doesn’t mean what you think it means.

You think it means damp, humid

Page-curling slick air

I can’t dry off after a shower, the towel

so damp it’s full

of the rain from last week that still

hovers

in the air and it’s

ruining my papers

bread rising

does funny things

and don’t…

“I only tie up a woman’s body because I know I...

Sun, 15 May 2011 17:07:56 +1000

“I only tie up a woman’s body because I know I cannot tie up her heart. Only her physical parts can be tied up. Tying up a woman becomes an embrace.”

Nobuyoshi Araki

Feet Objects by AOI_KOTSUHIROI available for purchase at http://www.notjustalabel.com/shop/29723

Now this ghetto life is hard,In our concrete front yard,Nothing...

Sun, 08 May 2011 16:42:23 +1000

Now this ghetto life is hard,
In our concrete front yard,
Nothing grows,
Except a single tree to mark our place,
But the moment that I’m with you,
Girl your light and love shine through,
And then I realise,
That You’re my saving grace,

Listening to Bryan Ferry is like being enveloped in an eternal...

Tue, 26 Apr 2011 19:57:41 +1000

Listening to Bryan Ferry is like being enveloped in an eternal hug by a one night stand.

The top hats take me back… of course I never had long...

Tue, 26 Apr 2011 08:54:49 +1000

The top hats take me back… of course I never had long hair, except once.

thelingerieaddict:

Ellen von Unwerth for UK GQ

fairy tale creatures dumped in urban...

Mon, 25 Apr 2011 15:01:09 +1000

fairy tale creatures dumped in urban environments

via http://www.stevedietgoedde.com/oldwork.htm

No one shoots stockings & stilettos like Elmer Batters. That...

Mon, 25 Apr 2011 14:48:14 +1000

No one shoots stockings & stilettos like Elmer Batters. That name has to be a pseudonym, right?

“one is not born but rather becomes a woman” Simone De...

Mon, 25 Apr 2011 11:35:15 +1000

“one is not born but rather becomes a woman” Simone De Beauvoir

Quote taken from

Bettie Page & Philosophy: Authenticity, Freedom, & Stilettos

Happy Birthday Bettie Page! Hat Tip @lingerie_addict

How to rock thigh length boots.

Sun, 27 Feb 2011 20:12:45 +1100

How to rock thigh length boots.

You are at the beach, watching the waves come and go. The...

Mon, 08 Nov 2010 15:15:31 +1100

You are at the beach, watching the waves come and go.

The ocean is a deep blue and the sky is perfectly clear.

You feel the soft white sand under your feet and the cool water dancing at your ankles.

You smell the salty ocean air; it is revitalizing.

The sound of the waves crashing relaxes you while the gulls crying and flying give you energy.

You can taste the salt water and it is cleansing.

Thanks to Numero Magazine for the reminder that fashionista =...

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 19:51:00 +1000

Thanks to Numero Magazine for the reminder that fashionista = fetishista.

Spikey Shoes mirror my current mood (via shoelust)

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 19:30:45 +1000

Spikey Shoes mirror my current mood (via shoelust)

“Hey, I put some new shoes on,And suddenly everything is right,I...

Tue, 27 Jul 2010 19:28:45 +1000

“Hey, I put some new shoes on,
And suddenly everything is right,
I said, hey, I put some new shoes on and everybody’s smiling,
It so inviting…”

It would be neat if with the New Year

Sun, 27 Jun 2010 21:12:00 +1000

It would be neat if with the New Year

I could leave my loneliness behind with the old year.

My leathery loneliness an old pair of work boots

my dog vigorously head-shakes back and forth in its jaws,

chews on for hours every day in my front yard—rain, sun, snow, or wind

in bare feet, pondering my poem,

I’d look out my window and see that dirty pair of boots in the yard.
But my happiness depends so much on wearing those boots.

At the end of my day

while I’m in a chair listening to a Mexican corrido

I stare at my boots appreciating:

all the wrong roads we’ve taken, all the drug and whiskey houses

we’ve visited, and as the Mexican singer wails his pain,

I smile at my boots, understanding every note in his voice,

and strangers, when they see my boots rocking back and forth on my feet

keeping beat to the song, see how

my boots are scuffed, tooth-marked, worn-soled.
I keep wearing them because they fit so good

and I need them, especially when I love so hard,where I go up those boulder strewn trails,

where flowers crack rocks in their defiant love for the light.

BY JIMMY SANTIAGO BACA for Miguel

jorpins: Fashion critters by Little Doodles

Sat, 15 May 2010 13:08:50 +1000

jorpins:

Fashion critters by Little Doodles

The Absolute

Sat, 01 May 2010 12:52:53 +1000

No mind, no form, I only exist;
Now ceased all will and thought;
The final end of Nature’s dance,
I am it whom I have sought.

A realm of Bliss bare, ultimate;
Beyond both knower and known;
A rest immense I enjoy at last;
I face the One alone.

I have crossed the secret ways of life,
I have become the Goal.
The Truth immutable is revealed;
I am the way, the God-Soul.

My spirit aware of all the heights,
I am mute in the core of the Sun.
I barter nothing with time and deeds;
My cosmic play is done.

- Sri Chinmoy

“A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it...

Sun, 28 Mar 2010 18:26:00 +1100

“A photograph is a secret about a secret. The more it tells you the less you know. “ - Diane Arbus

Photo of Lisa Lyons by Robert Mapplethorpe

He is more loquacious with his camera than he is with words and...

Sun, 28 Mar 2010 18:12:35 +1100

He is more loquacious with his camera than he is with words and this man can talk for Scotland. Taken by Alexander Macgregor in China 2009

Meet Our Ghost - Master Potter Alex Leckie

Sun, 21 Feb 2010 21:06:00 +1100

My mother is a firm believer that people that care about you visit you before, during and after their deaths. Usually a death is announced to my mum by a loud series of knocks at the door. A black crow follows me on the anniversary of my uncle’s death. For some time now, someone has been making their presence known in our house. In the middle of the night, my husband woke up with someone stroking his cheek. Today, we found out that my husband’s mentor and friend, the Master Potter Alex Leckie recently died. I wish we had known sooner. We could have offered him a dram. This is the next best thing that we can do for him, posting a short memory and appreciation of him.

This appreciation appeared in the Scotsman newspaper http://news.scotsman.com/obituaries/Appreciation-Alex-Leckie.6066443.jp

Potter, lecturer and sculptor

Born: 2 June, 1932, in Glasgow.

Died: 7 February, 2010, in Paisley, aged 77.

__________________________________________________________________________

SHORT, stocky and powerful, Alex Leckie was a wee bull who caused havoc in many a china shop as he charged headlong through life.

Potter, lecturer and sculptor

When the musician Robin Hall died I wrote that his passing drew a line under an important part of my life, but that relationship was a professional one, and Robin’s sad death was predictable. The news of Alex’s passing was much more shocking; a violent body blow, for although circumstances meant that we had seen less of each other in recent years, I still regarded him as my ancient, trusty and frequently drouthie cronie.

Alex and I enrolled at the Glasgow School of Art in 1950. We went in by the back door, both having left school at 15 without the necessary qualifications; me for financial reasons, he because of a natural resistance to authority which remained with him all his life. The art school took in a handful of people each year on the basis of perceived potential. Alex more than justified that faith, setting new standards in the 1954 diploma show and being awarded a post-diploma year. Having consulted me on the joys of national service, he took off for Australia.

After discovering that he was the only qualified ceramicist anyone seemed to have heard of, he set about establishing a pottery department in the South Australia School of Art. His energy, enthusiasm and natural warmth made him enormously popular with the students, but inevitably there were clashes with the authorities, and after a six-year tenure, he was ousted on a technicality – to wit, swimming in the scuddy in an inappropriate public place. Freelance work was challenging and exciting for Alex and he started working on a large scale with timber, glass and concrete. Using huge ceramic drainage pipes he constructed his Ned Kelly monument, which is now on display in a major art collection, as are a number of other pieces.

When he came back to Glasgow and the School of Art in 1966, he took a moribund pottery department by the scruff of the neck, completely transforming it and turning out students who were a credit to the school. Around this time he phoned me at my home in London. “Fancy some walking in Crete?” “Well, OK. When are we going?” “Tomorrow.”

I managed to arrange it, and visits to the palace of Knossos and the wonderful museum in Heraklion got Alex’s creative juices flowing and resulted in some truly lovely semi-sculptural pots.

There are people whose passing hardly causes a ripple, but the force of nature that was Alex Leckie will long be remembered by his many friends and admirers. Alex was twice married and divorced, but it was his near 30-year partnership with his staunchly loyal Sandra which gave him the peace and stability that had always eluded him.

Alex died peacefully at 4.45pm on 7 February with Sandra’s head on his chest. Apart from Sandra, he leaves three children, two grandchildren and his stepson, Calum.

Centennial Park at Twilight

Tue, 16 Feb 2010 15:35:30 +1100

Centennial Park at Twilight