End of an era

January-December 2008

the happy fits of rage, melodramatic dance bruises, pinot grigio pushing, falling down flights of stairs, ankle spraining, tailbone bruising, january, crashing the four seasons, walking home in the snow on new years, open bar wristbands, on tour with the band, lost in translating, zurich's redlight district, london london, robbin's european cream cheese bagels, running around picadilly for a bathroom, catch, party hopping, fur coats, sharing apartments with boys in bands, endless amounts of V.C.'s, tambourine shaking, february, sweaty betty's, broken glass, falling into snowbanks, catching the last train, in the darkroom for days, falling in love with mystical boys who can't be fallen in love with, dead car batteries, naked viron, flooding the bathroom, art highschool house parties, infomercials in hotel rooms, not getting in, puppy eyes, gross 40s, 1.5ers, march, short time romancing, new york, millionaires apartments, premier issue of hedonism, getting rhian sick in the morning, 24 hour dance parties, downtown creative community, intern at a-ron's, homeless new york, agathe's wolf dog, hating the future, everyone you need to know is here, the office, april, london paris, hilton paris, too close to the eiffel, chasing laduree macaroons, pinot/chardonnay/marlboro menthols, wandering bastille, the bad arondissements, angry gypsies, hating paris, the boys who sit around the arch, la truskel, silly bands, wine on the seine, clement being a squatter and always late, playing pictionary in french bars, legends of rock and roll, baguettes with brie and avocado, second issue of hedonism, rainy london, jack the ripper, alex howard, marriott's, hilton's, planes, may, streetcar pick up lines, marky mark, falling on people, wrongbar, studio, large bottles, nicotine hot boxing, red eyes, pushing boys, venus fly traps, bar dates, bolton, abandoned houses, sparklers, june, runaway boy "friends", getting lost in dog hill, too much red, being vindictive, getting caught at the border, keeping it sweet, rooftops, mushroom cheesy fries, having nothing better to do, rhian's squat, above schiller's, heat, bug bites, dank basement bedrooms, the loft on bleeker and lafayette, o'dell life talks, street punks, july, ice cream picnics, soapy trampolines, bike rides, sailing, getting tan, tanlines, james turns gold, arriving at kyle's unannounced, spraypainting in parks, night turn into day, queen street north side, ossington all the way up, poutine, shared loft, bellwoods, riding in the rain, box wine, uh oh 751, waiting for parties at ice cream parlours, other people's houses, jack attack, grabbing, blue nails, roadtrip to picton, sleeping on the beach, dead animals, coming down, deserts, august, running away, one way ticket to london, dizzee, ralphi lou, misty, harriet, underage, ronnie, artrocker, real english breakfast, losing my journal, spraypainting doors, chairs, new art, weird basement afterhours, being depressed with the weather, first class ticket back, being depressed still, oh open bar, tiny vices, coming to terms, september, mr. grainger, three week ramp tramps/skater daters, famous at the skate park, been there dunbat, rachel in bronques shower, new interns, vice office, feeling nauseous because of men in bmw's, losing job, sweater weather, october, throwing rocks at boy's houses, nuit blanche, dex, the virgins/black kids for the last time, mystical donald, gala's owen, wineland, vineyards, being mad at tease jack, that one significant party, canzine, funny brownies, new york, halloween, mcginley magic, gardiner twins, brigitte, edie, wednesday, false alarms, loft 910, being freezing, bedford ave., brewery concerts, jarmusch, margaritas, tequila, goth dolls, fake five dollar bills, the gramercy, witnessing the end of the it girls, november, love squares, chasing, the after after party, marathons, champagne, when you're twenty one you're no fun, juggling, throwbacks, ex boyfriends, charity show, veuve cliquot when you need it most, losing sleep, tattoo, snow, being found out, bonjour tristesse, night after night, december, the shakes, so cold, cuddling, blanket forts, honey, lester bangs fanzine, out of control, vodka kiss, ambition, butterfly in cage, runaway, disappointments, strangest christmas in record, gala the roommate, new years.

Tonight is an end of an era, I hope you are wearing black, we're in mourning.


this is not a love song

worth a million in prizes

In any arrangement youth is attractive, that is why on many occasions you may be unstylish and young and still be deemed attractive. However, when you are old and unstylish you might as well be nonexistent. The only way to age gracefully is to accept your beauty has faded and invest in other things that are beautiful.



"So, what's your myth?"
"What myth?"
"Your story, everybody needs a story, see that girl in the silver with the crucifix eyes? She hitched a ride on a tour bus and got off downtown, nothing but beauty came outta her pores. The kid she's sitting beside, french, lived in an elegant five-bedroom estate, see his shoes? Remnants of decadence. These kids know their stories by heart, it's the one thing that makes them unique to the other, they come from anywhere and find themselves here, in this room with these characters. A small gimmick for a chance at fame."



Unfortunately I will not be updating the website photos wise because some of the new rolls aren't currently with me. Although I can promise I've been taking photos. This all goes well with my new projects. I'm making plans, so keep a look out.


Someone so young singing songs so sad

Getting a lift in the back of a cop car with cops who use iphones, isn't usually where we think a friday night will take us.

Sheila take a bow


missing paris

sally cinnamon

alice was a strange and useless type of girl. serpentine and waiflike she drafted through the halls of parties like the wind. somewhat noticeable and existing from out of nowhere. she walked the streets on her way home in the end tails of autumn, the cold numbing her limbs into moveable bits of marble, marching on toward her house. when it was late and she knew no one was awake she walked in the middle of the roads taking her time, almost dancing to the emptiness. she enjoyed the feeling of being alone. she enjoyed the empty road as she knew for that moment in the dark of winter this road was hers, for this moment it belonged to her. for this time, everything could be her way. her skin would be dry as she arrived home, ears aching from the change in temperature. her body emitting the cold air as if an extention of outdoors, and finally as the leftover haze took possession over her she would laugh at the phrases she pulled together in her head, tragic and nonsensical. the street outside her window lay before her electricity-less. dark and lonely as it had been before. it made little to no effort in becoming approachable. the steely exteriors were hell bent on being unforgettable. she lay in her bed for a while before falling to sleep. watching shadows play amongst her ceiling, no thoughts of time went through her head, no ideas of abstraction, just warmth of the body. this was the time she could never take outside of these unearthly hours. the mutual discreetness of four in the morning. the personification of herself in a time. perhaps if this hour would take course for an extension of time she could understand more. her actions became second nature, without thought or remorse, this hour would nod in empathy. this hour would understand. only few were able to comprehend this time of night. the disturbed and desolate. 



the downtown community goes to miami.

oh yeah.
oh yeah



two thousand and nine, so soon

A-ron, downtown don, bonderoff has deleted all his shit for now. He told me he would when I was in New York, I only half believed him. I may be following suit. New projects, new year, new ambitions, no? It's all about reinvention as the Don did teach me long ago. ahaha. 

It's miami art basel on the fourth to the seventh. I wish I was in the sun. Ah, I'm watching the Britney Spears documentary. So sad, it's crazy that the media can create a prison around a person like that, she acts like such a little girl. 


beg, borrow, steal

You hit me with a flower

i'm sorry for being sparse, but really, Gala and I are going through a weird three week comatose, where as last night I think Gala got something close to a concussion (but who would notice anyways?) and I, a bruised tailbone. Vicious?


I think lookbook is the most ridiculous social networking shit website ever. It has come up in conversation often this weekend. Are there any other ways we can become even more self obsessed? Just throw on some clothes off your floor and get out of your house. What's the big deal? Everyone can put themselves together. 




bloody mary breakfast busting up the scene

thank you to my lovely friends who celebrated with me, thanks for throwing me around wrongbar like a football. now my entire body hurts and i have a bruise on my face that looks like i've been in a fight. (photos rachel woroner)

barely legal for life. 



from le pressier

you know, because i'm just that unreliable....

but you can order it from me as well...i'll post a link for paypalling the new issue of HEDONISM eventually. 


a little bit in love




icing on the cake

this weekend. 

champagne weekend, whatcha gonna get me?



oh, oh, ohhh

the night came down on our throats like a knife---bloodrush. 
blood became like oil, valuable and easily set alight. the crux, the crux, the crux, 
in amounts we've measured with such anticipation, we've timed and formulated. 
the roots of our teeth soon shake at the sight of your shadow, 
ghost of a shadow of yours. Still
lingering in the halls of the apartment, 
moments we would otherwise forget still mask the routine smells of the kitchen,
the bedroom, 
the bath. 
Down your throat through your nose out your ears. Familiar notes on the baby grand do not reckon recollection. you tip-toe-ing 
down the road with a hand full of all-purpose-cleaners,
 you wrapped in scarves upon scarves trying to set yourself
aflame by the embers that do no justice 
to your intent. 
Nor I, yes sir. 

New year's still comes by like a one-night-stand-in, 
all slinky and come-hither leaning on the door frame offering up absolution. 
i throw a tantrum in the middle of the floor, reeling, wriggling, screaming,
t(ee)ring, t(ehrr)ing up cheats sheets and 
other tearable objects of fury. 
You with your commonplace smirk
do nothing but sprawl across the bed as if nothing happens, as if you cannot hear

hello sadness,
"bonjour tristesse...Tu es inscrite dans les yeux que j'aime"




"how could you not?"


you use me like i use you


our limbs became jelly and this is when i knew what it was i was to do. 




loft 910

i will miss the love,
LOFT 910
LOFT 910

(from the built in photobooth in the living room)


crimson knees

I hope you didn't get too bruised/bloody in your costumes. I went as a less stark version of Wednesday Addams, I even had a slightly headless doll to carry around. It was quite a marathon, I went to seven different parties. A-ron and I were walking around aimlessly for a while, the lissy/virgins party was fun, expecially when everything started getting fucked. I went to beatrice for a bit, and got lost in the crowd and drank gross vodka waters. I hope Ralphi Lou and Misty loved their first american halloween. I took loads of photos. updates soon. I'm going to take a nap. 


oh the taste of new york city has me flat out on the ground...

I'm in new york, after a chaotic evening of taxi after taxi and not finding my passport and missing a flight etc. yes I'm on of those travellers. I barely packed anything, and I'm still figuring out my costume. Robin is having a party out at the loft in brooklyn for halloween. Comeeee. It's fucking freezing in this apartment. I've been dressing like a goth recently if you haven't seen me... it's getting to a point. 

I will hold up my end of the bargain by working on stuff to show you this week. Oh and Canzine went amazingly, i have to go and make more copies of the fourth issue to dish out to people here. I also sold a few prints. 

I'm a bit obsessed with Jonas Löfgren's illustrations, I saw his work in Lula magazine for the girl of my dreams issue. I like the fact all his drawings are a bit sooty. 


So as I'm putting together the fourth issue of Hedonism I'm watching Discovery channel, hmm. It's a good thing to be found doing on a Saturday night. Please come to CanZine tomorrow at the Gladstone, it starts at 1 and ends at 7. 
If you haven't sent me any submissions yet, this is your last chance. I make an early trip to Kinko's tomorrow. 

new photos
new interview(s) 
new zineeeeee 



when shit was still creative


the weather outside is fright-full

from my window, it's fucking snowing

yes, SNOWING. 

but...it isn't even halloween yet!


I like it when you say you're gonna beat kids up, gets me off! gets me off!



dear kids, i need contributors for theee zine. i can't print all your pretty photos, so writing is much preferrred. but you can send photos and illustrations if ya want. writing should be short snappy and something you think i'll enjoy reading. oh yeah, and hurry up I want everything by next week. i'm saying thursday is deadline.




i wanna go, let's go

a photo of mine is in Afisha, a cool russian magazine, they were lovely and sent me two issues in the mail. i secretly do some stuff for magazines, this is my article for artrocker/converse music. 

the full article is available at converse music

that was quite a funny day,
here's the vid of gallows playing, there's a part where you see misty, ralphi lou and harriet with dizzee and frank gallows ahahahaha. and also you get to witness the fucking crazy circle pit that made me nervous and think i was going to get trampled.


She had polkadots and rubies in her dreams, french fantasies on cinema screens

it's thanksgiving here (in canada) and i've been trying to figure out what i'm thankful for, it's almost as bad as making a new years resolution list. holidays always depress me. 

I've been listening to Diamond Street radio show episode one, Pharrell put in heartbreaker/metronomy and the golden silvers in. so good. I believe episode two arrives soon.
Speaking of which, i think i'm going to start french lessons soon.

the golden silvers, swoon worthy


anti binge

these are kind of amazing

I somehow see what's beautiful in things that are ephemeral


kiss for kavin

i heard she broke your heart again

I am getting my b&w film developed soon from the weekend, should be interesting to see how they come out since I was using my new point and shoot. I'm happy to announce that I'll be in New York for a little less than a week around Halloween because my favourite London twins, Misty and Ralphi Lou will be in town. We're still figuring out costumes... I'm somehow being sucked into the whole American politics thing, and I'm tired of talking about it. I just got a twitter account, so I don't know what to do with it... 

I'm excited about some of the interviews I'll be doing in a few weeks, but speaking of the past bands I've interviewed/photographed, Natalie Portman's Shaved Head has been doing so well for themselves! Vice gave them a good review an issue ago. A lot of the kids I've met along the way are doing amazing things for themselves, it's pretty crazy. 


permanently black and blue

currently writing to you in the midst of our whirlwind weekend. it's cold out and nuit blanche brings out the wild in everyone... Gala and I got our hair cut as an art installation... the hungry ghost was very crowded and i don't think there were enough prints to look at, we all wanted to see a bit more. anyways, wedding wedding wedding. We'll scrub up for today only. Autumn is here, and I've been sick for a week.



I loved muxtape, it was kind of amazing, it was a new way of discovering music through other people's tastes.

read Justin's ridiculous battle with the labels on the main page.

white night white knight

This weekend may be the only weekend to get an advancement in culture, for a full 12 hours from 6:52 pm on saturday to sunday's sunrise. Nuit Blanche. It's the third annual "free all-night contemporary art thing". Gala and I are going to try and marathon it this weekend. First, Friday with the Hungry Ghost show with work from Brad Phillips, Jessica Eaton, Tim Barber + more.

(jessica eaton)
(brad phillips)

And then Nuit Blanche, with more than enough artists/installations/delirious catastrophes for twelve hours that will hopefully persuade the government to not cut money for the arts.

But Sunday, ohhhhh. Me and gala go to the wedding, and afterwards black kids/the virgins concert. Should be sticky.

friends in quotations

I rediscovered interviewing artists. I'm doing a new onslaught of interviews as autumn comes into season and I can't go out to play as much as when it was spring and summer. Ryan of That Ghost is kind of the best. If you remember I once posted one of his songs in July because I was obsessed with his music.




by andre r.

It is kind of upsetting when a portrait that is supposed to be me comes out far more attractive...



Part one: Stop

I'm unequivocally detestable as I lie on this carpet watching the ceiling morph into equally abominable species. I lie here. The spot where I lie seems to catch the heat of my body. If I move I will be sucked into the ground, an above ground undertow. There are people here. If I call myself detestable they are far worse than that. I lack morals, logic, and perhaps compassion for comrades. They lack the qualities that make humans even slightly bearable. I can't stand them, I'd rather be alone with an onslaught of nosebleeds than strike up a fair-weather conversation. So I lie here. I hope they leave soon, they're ruining the moment. Maybe if they stopped talking I would feel better, but they don't. They continue in a monotonous drone. I feel paralyzed, pleasantly. Someone sits next to me, the room is still hazy. A voluminous cloud exits from the person’s mouth, for a fraction of a second the warm lamp disappears behind the smoke. This is nowhere. The person sitting next to me was not introduced, brushing hair out of my face. His face finally materializes. I hear muted footsteps edging toward the door. The Repugnant Society has finally left, dragging what’s left of their gruesome miasma onto the street. Their sizable fault? Their lack of self loathing, the fact they love themselves to death. The fact the only reason they pose questions is to revert the conversation back to themselves. True adversaries in the art of small talk, the only art I would grant them the honour of being part of. I feel the lift of their absence. How refreshing.


I love you, Louis


Sarah Palin is horrible, I'm not even American and I have to say it.

Give me some work to do, send me your photography, writing, weird videos, music whatever at marlowetatiana@gmail.com...maybe i'll like it.


can't take me anywhere, I'll take you anywhere

if you have placed an order from me for a zine or what not, it's enroute to you now. I sent them out last week, I'm not very punctual but I DO write personal notes to people who order. forgive me?

I used to rent movies every week with a different theme, for a whole four months I watched a lot of French films,

recently I've watched quite a few Jim Jarmusch films. I've become really into searching for things on youtube, as you can tell that's all I post now. Redhotcar sent me this clip, (because of my tendency to end up on roofs)




We have the same dentist

I'll admit that the only time I ever watch tv is for Gossip Girl, the Hills and I watch Mad Men recordings faithfully. However I never know what to think about the Hills girls, though Lauren's mascara tear tonight was epic, and the jail stint.

Another movie I want to see that premiered during TIFF, aw Michael Cera!!!


get filmfested

The best time of year to be in Toronto is TIFF because it's all flash and bang while you ease your way back into classes. So basically a bunch of parties and movies and beautiful people for a week. I just really want to see this ahahahaha



In a wildly romantic and childish fling of writing I've been trying to get myself to write something about the end of summer. In many ways I wish I had the ability to write down everything, categorized and catalogued. However, I am a private person, mostly and a lot of things never come to public light. Writing is funny that way, because most of the time you write what you know. Sometimes it's not autobiographical, sometimes it's half-fiction.

Something about the heat and the sun regards you to become more beautiful. Somehow it's like your entire body tries to burst through your pores. Like the flush in your cheeks, and the rush of blood to your face. Your tanned limbs and freckled forearms have natural kissability, as if dusted with gold. Your face gleams from the sweat and shimmers like the mist on the trees in the early morning. There's never anything else to do. So we bum around stoops and make lists of laws to break. The simple fact that you have nothing to do tomorrow, procures the reason why you're out tonight. That's why you stay up in the park daring the sky with your stamina. You sit in your apartment all day long, lying on the sofa cringing at moments that slip through your mind like sand, because in fact, if they were ever-present you could no longer dance on tables and urinate in people's gardens out of sheer self-consciousness. Cheers, another round for the ladies. You dumb yourself down, because no one so intelligent could be so brave. You love like no other, a breeze passing through a field, carressing stems and naming every thistle. In the heat of July we rubbed rosemary through our fingers till it stained our forefingers to our pinkies. We kept ice in storage and you wore your crown around the house. In the night we slapped our thighs from invisible bugs and smoked out a pipe like a chimney with dreams of herringbone and the tweed England. As summer comes to a timely close, the weather seems to not want to let off, the afternoons are still spent taping dark scarves to the bedroom window, refusing to let the sun come in and infect our murky rooms with its pervasive heat. We also dreamed of France with its blue waters and low pressure systems, we wished for blisters on our feet from the ancient uneven walkways.

Early in the morning I can smell it. The autumn persuades summer with its colours and attractive dance, in the morning you can almost feel it. Though the salty residue of summer is still strong on your tongue. The rotting crabapples fall in piles, our hair will get darker and our faces lighter. The remorse will be wiped away till next summer. We bargained to keep our secrets close.

We will need to find suitable partners to get us through the winter, perhaps they will have no idea about our defamatory pursuits, and burdening addictions. Perhaps with fall we turn new leaves. Reminder: we are not trees, tigers never lose their stripes.


So, apparently the internet knows how much I love punks.

Fevers and Mirrors

the end of summer is still thick in the air

collective, choices from three rolls of film I got developed. More to arrive.

(my favourite photo of gala ever)


it seems to me that I wake up and sleep, look in the mirror have no idea what happened in between

One of my favourite memories is meeting Conor Oberst one rainy February night almost two years ago. He's up there with Pete, as my favourite living lyricists. I admire him so much, his new album, amazing. Gala and I have decided we will see him and Kings of Leon (not together, but we can only wish) when they tour. Top priority.

And time's not poison but once you drink it all you'll die
So lets just sip it real slow, yeah, we can nurse it all night
Try to believe that once its gone they will pour another round
and come back to life


loving isn't easy

If you're in New York August 27th go play with our favourite boys, young lords and the virgins


only by the night

a present

STREET WISE, thanks alex howard. Probably one of the most impressive/amazing edited and filmed documentary. watch it all. learn.

I decided to dig up some Kings of Leon songs to listen to, I used to be obsessed, I'm waiting for their new album to come out. I was going to put up Sex On Fire on my Muxtape, but you know RIAA is bringing muxtape downnnnn. Like Last.fm and Pandora they might have to start paying royalties etc. Awh, I only wanted to hear and share some goddamn music.

She loves everybody

The other night, we went to Tim Barber's exhibition of TV books at Studio Gallery. After the police came I was walking down the fire escape and fell down the stairs. Les Saboteurs laughed and I got up and brushed myself off and continued on with the night. In the darkness I fell down another stairway, and then continued to dance around. Now I have a sprained foot, and I won't be able to wear heels for a little bit. Gala and I made a little mess of ourselves, but that's usual. EMBARRASSING.
I've been listening to a lot of Chester French on repeat. "She loves everybody" is about a nymphomaniac, hah...

Speaking of nymphomaniacs, Hedonism, ISSUE 3 is now out. purchase here


street justice

People need to be put back in their place. The gloves have come off. No one fucks with us.


two young sensualists got off a plane

You can never have enough of what you don't really need

I really love good illustrators, especially when the work is a little fashion, a little sexy, and very pleasing to look at. One of my favourites is Michael Gillette. I remember seeing a poster of his and jotting down his name on my hand. I was in the bookstore the other day to buy a new Moleskine because I left the other notebook I had just bought in London. I saw this amazing display of bookcovers, the James Bond collection, redone with covers by Gillette. I wanted them all! I wouldn't mind getting them as prints too! I love the way he draws women, they always look really beautiful and a bit dangerous. Anyways, this gives attention to what really made James Bond great, the girls.
My favourite covers:

more of his work