antipopper

In my dream last night, I was in an excellently dodgy ’80s movie with Molly Ringwald, whose character falls in love with her kidnapper. The highlight was scene where the authorities are chasing the kidnapping antihero after Molly has been freed, and Molly and I are in turn pursuing on BMX bikes.

Although in many ways this has been a totally fucked up wasteland of a year for me, I’ve found my dreams to be quite compelling. (I guess that’s no surprise.) I’m now thinking of making a short online comic inspired by my Whoreboy dream. With animated tentacles.

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Another piece of the maximalist puzzle: for fuck’s sake, all year I’ve been wearing a pink and maroon houndstooth silk cravat with my grey suit. It’s as if I’ve been on autopilot, and not realising the bigger picture that was assembling itself around me… And pink floral designs are everywhere in mainstream laydeees’ fashion for Spring in Sydney, which is fantastic. The trick, I guess, is to create an edge, if only by imagining that all those flowers are actually Triffids, with extra-long tentacles. The old Royal Tenenbaums wesbite always had that feel for me — “classily” ornate kitsch taking on an unnatural life of its own, like a biological mutation-acceleration experiment gone terribly wrong — and I guess it’s been a big influence, personally, surprise surprise.