wonderland | wanderlust alice. south african but has spent the past several years between cape town, paris, florence, and new york. 21 years old. likes musical instruments made of wood, a single ginger cat, rooibos tea, scones, and figs. interested in poetry, literature, food, photography, theatre, film, music, and people who make/do all those things. sometimes likes to run in fields and forests. currently figuring out how art can make an impact in the world. lover of sundays and yoko ono. hoarder of note due to overdramatic tendencies and an extreme fear of forgetting. still learning.

clock ticks, oven whirr, rain.

Friday 7/25/2014

my friend and I just signed for an apartment in the part of new york we most wanted to live!! it has exposed brick walls and wooden floors and windows just above the trees!! of course, I haven’t actually seen the place, because my friend lives in new jersey and I live in south africa, so she took on the task of apartment hunting for both of us. but guys - this is a dream come true! I can’t wait to secretly buy a goldfish and put pictures on the walls and hang fairy lights and be a person! to celebrate I’m going to go bake bran muffins for breakfast, and then I’m going to play jumpy cello songs all day long!

myampgoesto11:

Photographer Heeseung Chung 

Born in 1974, Seoul, South Korea.

Currently lives and works in Seoul.

My Amp Goes To 11: Twitter | Instagram 

"…and I am out with lanterns, looking for myself."
Thursday 7/24/2014

Emily Dickinson, The Letters of Emily Dickinson (via petrichour)

(Source: wordsnquotes, via lifeinpoetry)

rookiemag:

hazelcills:

"Susan Sontag, Cosmophage" from Wayne Koestenbaum’s "My 1980s & Other Essays"
Does someone ever write something about one of your idols in such a way that it pretty much simultaneously mirrors and destroys anything you could ever say about your idol? And you’re not even mad about it, you’re just so glad to read something that gets it so right?

This book is the greatest. Everyone should read it and then join my Koestenbaum fan club. We’re called The Wayneiacs and our theme song is “Dreaming” by Blondie. X ARS

shoutout to the kids who were in suzanne’s artist critic class second semester sophomore year!

rookiemag:

hazelcills:

"Susan Sontag, Cosmophage" from Wayne Koestenbaum’s "My 1980s & Other Essays"

Does someone ever write something about one of your idols in such a way that it pretty much simultaneously mirrors and destroys anything you could ever say about your idol? And you’re not even mad about it, you’re just so glad to read something that gets it so right?

This book is the greatest. Everyone should read it and then join my Koestenbaum fan club. We’re called The Wayneiacs and our theme song is “Dreaming” by Blondie. X ARS

shoutout to the kids who were in suzanne’s artist critic class second semester sophomore year!

for the past four - maybe five - months, I’ve been without a computer, because it decided it’d be a great idea to crash circa february (the beginning of the school semester). consequently, I’ve spent many a night at school finishing essays on the computers there/typing essays on an ipad, been without netflix, and also been without half of my itunes library. first world problems, I know. but this is not to complain. this is to relish the fact that today, I once again have a fully functioning laptop! *does a lil jig* *to the music of my itunes library that was rescued*

wildexwoman:

alice-ishbel:

this post is a tiny tribute to the things I’ve left under airplane seats

like a whole bundle of postcards from barcelona, madrid & lisbon that will never make it to their intended destination. hopefully the stewardess cleaning up enjoyed my stories.

update: 5 min after writing this i found another postcard i wrote for a friend in paris and thought i lost tucked safely in an old journal. Life.

no no no! cheyenne! I hope those postcards had addresses on them with intended destinations, and maybe some nice air host/hostess will decide not to throw them in with the crumpled crisp packets and plastic cups and miniature bottles of alcoholic beverages, and instead, s/he will drop them off at a post office in an unpredictable country (because s/he flies all the time, so we don’t know where he/she’ll end up), and then they’ll make their way to wherever they were going. can we hope? let’s hope!

the things I leave under seats are more like sweaters.

Tuesday 7/22/2014

artvevo:

Swedish native Sophie Mörner and her friends took a day-trip to a park, setting up camp in the woods. Mörner captured the above photo early in the morning, her sleepers made up of friends, acquaintances and a few strangers all basking in the glow of the warming sun. The colors and composition become a painterly tableau, Mörner’s subjects lounging and oblivious as if in an enchanted slumber. For Mörner, the image represents the ultimate relaxation and harmony, lost in the moment to nature

artvevo:

Swedish native Sophie Mörner and her friends took a day-trip to a park, setting up camp in the woods. Mörner captured the above photo early in the morning, her sleepers made up of friends, acquaintances and a few strangers all basking in the glow of the warming sun. The colors and composition become a painterly tableau, Mörner’s subjects lounging and oblivious as if in an enchanted slumber. For Mörner, the image represents the ultimate relaxation and harmony, lost in the moment to nature

(via commovente)

hello home. hello familiar sounds (spoons and teacups) and familiar wooden floors (slippers). hello horses and dogs and cat (bundle in lap). hello sisters (secrets), food (dinner with red wine), friends (glitter and childhood memory storage), and hello memory (the space between where we are and where we were).

this last week I spent in england first, flitting from bookstore to coffee shop in search of one particular literary publication in which my friend has a poem, and though I couldn’t find his particular one (number 23), I found a whole lot of others, plus tea and cupcakes I may not have stumbled upon otherwise. I also got to see a couple of friends who live there now doing various things. then, I visited a friend of mine in scotland. we visited the sights, I slept in a bunk bed in her guest room, we walked around her university, ate some of the best food I’ve eaten in my life (the uk is underrated when it comes to cuisine - I cannot stress this enough), and I think my dad was all chuffed that I was “exploring my roots” (though I would argue my scottish heritage is so generationally removed from me, there’s really no reason I should find any connection to it other than the fact that I’m pale and blonde and my dad wears kilts to weddings).

on the plane over here, I watched before sunrise. I don’t know what took me so long to see it, but I recall a friend telling me that planes are a good place to sort things out in your head, because you are neither here nor there, suspended in transit, usually fairly isolated (absurd, considering we are all slumped together like cattle, expected to sleep next to strangers) and this film helped me sort things out mentally too. it helped organise my thoughts and sow new ones into my mind - welcome ones, because I’ve been recycling thoughts for too long now. in a rut, I suppose. does it happen to everyone?

this film got me thinking of people, its protagonists reminding me of two of my friends. and as I watched it, all 70s film quality on the chunky television in the back of someone’s seat, in my peripheral vision I saw someone else’s screen play a journey map (to the left, we were above northern africa) and a national geographic episode about elephants fighting (to the right). later there were snakes swallowing eggs and frogs. and I wondered about how people talk about things they understand like these concepts are universal - able to pinpoint feelings, for example - where I am so incapable. and about why we reserve one another, maybe because we’re defined by labels all too often. I thought about what a friend of mine says about small talk - how he hates it - and how this film had none of it. I wondered if these were the kinds of conversations he always has. I wondered if all his life was suspended in time like this - like in a film or in an airplane.

I arrived home in the afternoon, and my mum picked me up from the airport. it’s winter. we made a fire and we ate winter vegetables at the table in front if it. I slept for fourteen hours straight.

the past few days have been simple and pleasant. I went to a favourite coffee shop with a friend of mine to catch up over mediocre red velvet cake. two of my friends joined me in watching my sister perform in oklahoma at the city’s biggest theatre, sitting in plush seats with chocolate covered raisins and wine gums. I read the fault in our stars in the space of one day just to see what all the fuss is about and if it’s justified, following a trip to a nearby bookstore with my sister (where I stocked up! at last buying books from the list of titles I’ve been writing down in the notes section of my phone for the past five months!). I enjoyed it more than I thought I would. too much hype, as always, but redeeming qualities.

and yesterday afternoon I sat reading with my friend and my cat (both ginger) on the couch, all tucked up under woollen blankets, a purple scented candle with a flickering flame dancing golden light over the table upon which we rested our feet. and we stayed like that for hours.

being home is okay. sleeping is incredible. I have little plans and things, namely an audition in mid-august, so I’ll get to sing songs with an old singing teacher of mine who I adore and miss, and I’ll be running and trying to cook/bake things more often and reading and watching movies I’ve been desperate to see but haven’t had the time. I don’t know how productive I’ll be, but at this point, even sleeping is productive, all things considered.

this post is a tiny tribute to the things I’ve left under airplane seats

Monday 7/21/2014