Tuesday

Long Day

Tate Britain. Chris Ofili. Henry Moore.

Victoria, friend, lunch outside the Natural History Museum, V&A, Print and Drawing Room, summer plans and ensuing excitement.

Oxford Circus, Photographers Gallery, Deutsche Borse Photographic Prize.

London Bridge, other friends.

Halls. Cooked a monumental chilli.

Three people on my bed trying to power nap.

Bethnal Green. Off Licence. 'So, its my friends birthday and I think he likes rum. Can you help?'

Drink. Incomprehensible texts. Found one in my drafts this morning saying 'stevie wood1e? good'

(I have no idea either)

Broken down buses.

The surrealist aspect of being on a night bus with many fellow wulfrunians.

A beautiful bus conversation. From which springs the knowledge i need to lead my life.

Roxy. Drunk. Falling on the dancefloor. Deciding i didn't know where to get the bus back from (I still don't know london well enough at half two in the morning it seems) and spent a ridiculous amount on a taxi. Fell asleep. Conked out in halls and apparently missed an in depth and illuminating conversation.

This morning dawned with a pounding head and last night's make up.

List

Things that actually happened today

- Walk to Deptford to discover Cafe Selecta was shut. Back to New Cross with a paper to dismantle a bacon baguette at the Goldsmiths Cafe. It was officially day one of summer, the nude tights came out to play.

- Back to Surrey House to witness the tidy state of a friend's bedroom. It was highly impressive, and I fear, highly temporary.

- Loring. Picnic Blanket, ice lollies, laptop, books. Rediscovering Chicane and becoming re-acquainted with laundry cat whilst desperately trying not to nap in the sunshine. It proved difficult.

- Surrey House once again. Gossip. Essay checks.

- Loring. Various forms of procrastination undertaken to avoid the interminable essay. Itunes, radio, spotify, any kind of technological interaction that didn't involve microsoft word.

- Bolognese

- Essay. 1024 words down. 1976 to go.

Finally started to read another Murakami, and finally downloaded Goldsmiths: But is it Art? I'm guessing the answer is going to be no?

I'd forgotten how much I loved the work of Peter James Field

You could lose yourself on there for hours.

Spencer Murphy

Seems fitting to be listening to Boards of Canada while looking at this.

Morning Splurge

Can't sleep.

My dreams aren't what I want them to be. So I woke up.

Back in New Cross for a week now, have become highly acquainted with my snooze button and the new Laura Marling album. Both so beautiful in their own way. There has been sunshine, ice lollies and picnic blankets emerging, along with blossom strewn pavements. Also had a collective cleaning of the fridge. That wasn't so beautiful. The mould within the natural yoghurt pot resembled somewhat of a forest on a glacier, floating on putrid milk. It was a sight to behold.

Made it out of New Cross yesterday with my flatmate. 171 to Holborn, crawling through Peckham and Camberwell, which was home to the most amazing fence. Within the diagonal arrangements of wire, plastic cups had been placed within to say 'I LIKE YOU VERY MUCH'. The aesthetic was so simple, the sentiment so sweet. I'd love to try something like that with the lights in halls, see if any words could be constructed. Anyway. The 171 crawled in the summer heat to take us north of the river and towards Senate House library. I'm annoyed with myself for not making it sooner. I felt like Matilda, both in terms of my stature in comparison with the actual building and in terms of excitement over the books, though I'm sure Matilda would have been much more photogenic when it came to having her picture taken for the library card.

Things to do today

One essay.

Things that are more likely to happen today

The eating of a greasy spoon breakfast. I do love Cafe Selecta.

Perpetual daydreaming distracting me from doing anything productive. Below being a visual representation of this state. (Spencer Murphy)

I do wish this volcanic ash would hurry along.

Norway (Goldsmiths on Tour)

Its been a while.

Weeks of distraction culminating in a nice little jaunt across the North Sea.

Thank you Ryanair.

It was like Norway operated on a whole different colour palette. Even the trees were different, some of them resembled upside down grape stalks. It was lovely. The coach ride from Oslo Torp to the centre heralded the joy of seeing a little triangular warning sign with a moose inside it, however that did little to alleviate the disappointment of not seeing an actual moose. There was a saturation of cultural activity, matched by a saturation of bread, jam and cereal bars. The Contemporary Art Gallery got me a little bit excited, thanks to the work of Ludvig Eikaas. So many prints, all so beautiful, a hybrid mix of everything from etchings to mezzotints, from woodcuts to silkscreen, it made me want to actually persevere with something.

There was an almighty dependence on naps, on climbing the National Opera House to see the sky no matter what time of day, whether it be sunrise, dusk or sunset, even the dead of night. The water merged with the sky when dark to give the illusion of a complete void, offset by the sporadic blinkering of lighthouse beacons, which coincided very neatly with my reading about the sublime (thank you Simon Morley). Norway also constituted many other things, wet feet, snowball fights, a sculpture park that was home to the most ridiculously phallic statue ever in existence, a tram ride up the mountains, and then straight back down again when we realised the cafe that served waffles was in fact closed for the winter, money with holes in it, falafel, a ridiculous consumption of hot chocolate, as well as a ridiculous amount of laughter (which was reason enough for our lack of sleep) being in a dorm room that reminded me of being 14 again, especially with the gossip that ensued, purple and pink skies, a perpetual absorbance in the landscape, piles of dirty snow mounted on the pavements, and the lovely prostitutes hanging out near our hostel.

Now onto the summer plans.