are we human? or are we dancer?

Will your system be alright

When you dream of home tonight?
There is no message we're receiving

Let me know is your heart till beating
Are we human? Or are we dancer?
My sign is vital My hands are cold
And I'm on my knees Looking for the answers

You got to let me know

-The new Killers single

I took the crazy bumpy bus to my friend's house. We talked. We ate Pringles. We played with the dogs. But then we reverted to dressing up and taking pictures. My best friend's house is a patchwork of memories for me. The carriage house where we made a museum when we were nine. The pond where we made fun of the boys next store. The lawn where her dad shot off fireworks. This time we were creepy ghosts coming back to childhood.

Skye (the blond one's alias) wears a Mossimo lace dress over a J.Crew skirt, Abercrombie leggings, Gap scarf, her sister's socks, unknown brand shoes.

Madeleine wears American Apparel tights, Skye's mom's shoes, an Aqua skirt, Free People sweater, bow from store in Martha's Vineyard and Bijou Brigette glove.

styled and photographed by me

by the way. i've been trying to post more. good thing?

maverick with a wink. yes palin scares me too. anyway...

I adore Halloween creepiness and cold melancholy. Autumn and Winter are the most hostile and perfect times of the year.

This photo is one I took of my friend at her farm. I took a bunch others with my film camera for phography class but I haven't developed them yet seeing as how I spent a whole class trying to get the film on a reel. Why is it that I am so incompetent at something I love?

For Halloween my friends and I are thinking of doing a circus theme. I'm thinking top hats and frills, glitter, striped tights and such. We are so not too old to go tricker treating!

kind of a crazy afternoon, terrifically cold, and no sun out or anything, and you felt like you were disappearing every time you crossed a road

I wore my Holden Caulfield hat today. It's my lucky, happy hat that gets me looks and whose strings I pull and twirl when I'm bored.

We took pictures. I love scraggly gardens.

This is the lovely collage from my feature on SVT's blog. Past interviews were BryanBoy and Am Lul. Wikipedia revealed SVT to be the Swedish counterpart of BBC and I think its supercool to see an article about me in Swedish (Drömska Ana gör äntligen sitt sista år på high school och kallas fortfarande “the hippie” av en massa dudes i skolan?!)

http://blogg.svt.se/llc/2008/09/22/horru-modebloggare-snazzy/

gray

songs you should listen to on youtube {or something}

In Your Room-Depeche Mode
All Is Full of Love-Bjork
Hallo Spaceboy (Petshop Boys Remix)-David Bowie
We Walk-The Ting Tings
Graveyard Girl-M83
We Own the Sky-M83
Neighborhood 4 (Kettles)-Arcade Fire
SRXT-Bloc Party
Uniform-Bloc Party
Until We Bleed-Kleerup Feat. Lykke Li
Control-Metro Station
Helicopter (Whitey version from Silent Alarm Remix)-Bloc Party

dress:Zara

Tights:Hue

Shoes:Minnetonka

Scarf:shop in Italy

jacket:Urban Outfitters

nothing seems good enough.
i keep deleting/unpublishing
in every aspect. not just in blog life.

i'm numb

"I'm naked
I'm numb
I'm stupid
I'm staying
And if Cupid's got a gun,

then he's shootin'
Lights black
Heads bang
You're my drug
We live it
You're drunk, you need it
Real love, I'll give it
So we're bound to linger on
We drink the fatal drop
Then love until we bleed
Then fall apart in parts"

Pics from when my friend and I ran around a field in seventh or eighth grade.Seems so long ago. Lots has changed.

I'm so scared for intro to photography. We're developing our own photos and using film and I have no idea what I'm going to do. Worried about not taking good ones.

we're all mad here

"What is the use of a book, without pictures or conversations?"

"Oh, how I wish I could shut up like a telescope! I think I could, if I only knew how to begin"


"We're all mad here."

"Tut, tut, child! Everything's got a moral, if only you can find it."
The lawnmower was looking at me like "what the hell are you doing?" when I dragged out the chair while wearing 5 inch heels.

her blacks crackle and drag

Part 1

Edge by Sylvia Plath

The woman is perfected
Her dead

Body wears the smile of accomplishment,
The illusion of a Greek necessity

Flows in the scrolls of her toga,
Her bare

Feet seem to be saying:
We have come so far, it is over.

Each dead child coiled, a white serpent,
One at each little

Pitcher of milk, now empty
She has folded

Them back into her body as petals
Of a rose close when the garden

Stiffens and odors bleed
From the sweet, deep throats of the night flower.

The moon has nothing to be sad about,
Staring from her hood of bone.

She is used to this sort of thing.
Her blacks crackle and drag.

I couldnt sleep so at midnight I took a bunch of pictures in a maxi dress that used to be grandmas's.

Part 2

I got bored so I drew on some of my crappier polaroids.