It’s the middle of January – the bleak, dead, forsaken low point of January, and that most dreaded of things – THE FUNK – has set in.
With little or nothing to photograph, little or nothing to wear (in terms of new, exciting, even-partially-resembling-chic-ness), and nothing but exams and at least two and a half more months of winter, THE FUNK has arrived at my slippery doorstep with all its baggage – dirty slush and comfy sweats, to be precise. Not much new inspiration; I’ve been delving into the world of an eclectic mix of 80s glam rock, thoroughly British-influenced shoots, clothes, films, and everything alike, rebellious 20s and 40s glamour (thinking The Notebook and Public Enemies – Marion Cotilard was inspiring, I found – not in an obtrusive way, just elegantly subtle touches, hats, gloves, hair, as such…), Phillip Lim’s delicately alluring lingerie, sculpted bandage dresses and their accompanying shoulderpads of all shapes and sizes, pleated skirts, and – the fashionista’s forever-saving grace, shoes (peep-toe booties, to be exact).
I was pondering all of this around 1 a.m. this morning, when THE FUNK truly dug itself in the trenches of my mind* as my inability to fall asleep steadily manifested itself side by side. I scribbled down a very late night/very early morning winding sort of note – merely my observations, which I’ll post shortly hereafter – and once again tried to fall asleep, this time succeeding. Unfortunately, by that time it was (by my blind reckoning) about 2 a.m., and I had to be up and raring to go at 5:45. (I, of course, refused to acknowledge my alarm and woke up a prompt 45 minutes late, resulting in a four-minute shower (oh, the inhumanity of the unshaved leg under tights!) and hair quickly piled atop my head and secured – loosely – with an octopus clip). Such a rushed morning and lack of badly-needed sleep resulted in a positively FUNKed-up day.
And now, after venturing cautiously (and shiveringly – I refused to wear either coat or socks) outside to snap at least a few photos, I find myself once more in my room, alone (except for the great entity of The Intertubes, of course) with my thoughts and conscientiously avoiding any school-related thoughts, activities, or work. My school bag – fffff? What bag? My unwritten article, due by midnight? Pffffft. [in a ridiculously overblown and quite obviously fake French accent] I spit upon you, responsibility!
The snow has been falling not in flakes, but in compact little wads – neither hail nor sleet, nor rain, but some precipitation.
Our staunchly stubborn remaining reminder of Christmas in the gazebo in the back…
And a sunset from a few weeks ago – I often glance out the window beside my desk that faces west to see a brilliant sunset, grab my camera and rush outside, lest I miss the moment… and more often than not forget that I’ve left the SD card in the card reader, unfortunately… 😛
Ah, I suppose I’ll give in and do some work… s’pose it’s the right thing to do, after all… and being published is gratifying…
*In these same trenches, I seem to recollect, was the vague scenario being played out of my interview debut on The Daily Show… as to why, I am uncertain… my book, perhaps? I was wearing orange booties, that I do recall quite distinctly.