Hello
I need a haircut
- Location:-34.921970, 138.604587
New Internationalist Magazine - Drowning in plastic
www.newint.org/issues/2008/09/01/
Sixty years ago plastic was an exotic development of modern chemistry. Today it is the most widespread human-made substance in the world. More than 250 billion pounds of raw plastic pellets are produced from petroleum feedstock every year. It is everywhere, in places you never imagined: computers and cell phones; packaging; food and drink containers; home furnishings and building materials; cars, trucks, airplanes and boats; children’s toys and beauty products.
Slum dwellers in Latin America and Africa build their shanties from plastic sheets and collect their water in plastic buckets; plastic flip-flops protect the feet of millions of peasants across Asia. Western consumers eat their take-out food with plastic cutlery from plastic foam containers while swigging water from plastic bottles.
Now no part of the planet can escape its toxic impact on human health and the environment.
Subscribe to the print edition here:
www.newint.org/subscriptions/
Or read this archive edition of NI magazine now:
This toxic life
They’re in our homes and our workplace, in the air we breathe and in the food we eat. Wayne Ellwood argues that toxic chemicals are changing the nature of nature.
The Polymer Revolution
A history of plastic.
Message in a bottle
It’s a fashion statement and an environmental nightmare. Zoe Cormier examines one of the most successful marketing ploys ever – bottled water.
Plastic is forever
The facts about plastic
Sea of garbage
The good ship Alguita sails an ocean choked with plastic. Blog by Anna Cummins.
Plastic plants
As oil supplies dwindle, the plastic industry is pinning its hopes on biomass. Not a great idea, reasons Jim Thomas.
Abandon the toxic treadmill!
Things you can do to avoid toxic plastics. PLUS the Action / Campaign directory.
and times have been good.
and a little bit of strange emotional hibernation..
but mostly good.
so probably worth mentioning a little few things.
i met a wonderful lady friend.
a lady friend with so many little incredibly cool bonus features, that i'm not quite sure what she sees in me.
but regardless, i feel rather happy.
she's an environmental lawyer you see.
so she's smart, caring, silly, weird and has a strangely arousing taste in old punk.
i introduced her to my motorbike on the weekend.
it was all quite nice really.
quite nice.
:)
she doesn't like photos, but here's one i sneaked in..
eliza! <3
xx
ps_ went through a dark couple of weeks re-adjusting to having someone care about me. felt a little bit weird about the whole someone loving me back. which is strange, but i'm okay with it now. quite okay actually. :)
pss_ owen, if you read this, which you probably won't, but if you do because i commented on your comic.. well, eliza really really loved talking to you at the mint vintage party.. so yay!
i'm not exactly sure how it happened.
we were drifting for a while.
in an ocean of confusion.
its these situations when it happens.
i push things, push her, away.
we were apart for a while.
i hated her.
for being such an emotional wreck.
i hated me.
for being such an emotional wreck.
i floated alone for a while.
to melbourne.
and back.
past delightful faces.
and curves.
we met again.
and it was like we never left.
we still fight sometimes.
i think its mostly normal.
the fighting.
but it drains me.
and when she leaves, i sit here and think.
and that's when the strange feelings of loss begin.
i'm just a weak fragile soul in a body that doesn't fit.
maybe it's me that makes me tired.
probably my silly crohns.
i could just be tired.
at least my lovely drawing friends will renew my glow tomorrow, tonight, today.
she'll return wednesday.
we'll smile.
s. x
- Location:the couch
- Mood:
lonely - Music:radiohead - weird fishes / arpeggi
fuck christmas and all its dirty ways.
fuck birth, death and taxes.
fuck everything that causes conflict and destruction.
fuck it all.
fuck me?
this is a messed up world we live in where one half celebrates giving billions of dollars in gifts, while the other half chokes on its own poverty.
happy festive season. :)
* note to readers.. take as much or as little offence as you desire. this was not written for you, it was written for me. every now and then i need to remind myself what a selfish, privileged, white man i am.

if you happened to be scrolling past blog.flickr.com on 30th may, you might have noticed that a little unknown boy called sighmon made the blog.
strange to be chosen for a piece that i was so hesitant in putting up. but then again, my grandfather was never backwards in letting his voice be heard when he was alive, so why should it be any different now he's moved on.
so, enjoy him. while we enjoy our day in the sun together.
http://blog.flickr.com/flickrblog/2007/0
hugs, si. x
- Location:home
- Mood:accomplished
- Music:VJ DVD
box of walls_
what happens when a bunch of kids get together with recycled boxes and loads of smiling enthusiasm and creativity.. :)
i set this little group up about a month and a bit ago. we've been drawing every tuesday since then. last night we decided to try painting a wall of boxes.. and what do you know.. it actually kind of worked! yay for us.
s. x
----
made by the ex-a-sketch crew.
an open drawing night at the pub! every tuesday from 6.30pm, exeter, rundle st, adelaide.
location: union street, adelaide city. (just off rundle street opposite exeter)
in our world.
as it stands.
43 out of 100 people live without basic sanitation.
www.miniature-earth.com/
to watch a stunning animated look at the backwards world we live in today, click the link, choose english, press play, take action.
s. x
i woke up from the.
best.
birthday.
ever.
and the world shifted, ever so slightly.
a close friend's ex drifts ever closer to the edge.
a family member in law loses his way.
my grandfather nears the end.
reflections on a puddle of mud.
stains brown, all it touches.
light desperately trying to silhouette its beauty.
but the puddle of mud.
is deep, dark and silent.
i didn't mention it before?
it didn't come up in random conversation?
strange.
maybe i told you while you were drying your hair, and you didn't hear.
it might have been while you were running the bath.
definitely over dinner.
maybe you were distracted by your stomach.
well anyway,
just so you know..
i'm marilyn manson's love child.
s.
my delusions of grandeur have eased slightly.
well, actually, in all honesty. i never really had them.
but sometimes i dream of them.
wishing one day the delusions would catch.
then i would write.
pages.
upon pages.
script a film about my life.
a mockumentary about my delusions of grandeur.
the irony when i see it available on the shelves at my local video (sl)ezy.
i have my photo taken next to it.
smile, a little uneasily.
i'm obviously standing somewhere else in my mind.
i wonder where my security have got to.
they'll touch me soon if i'm not careful.
bring me down from my pedistool.
and back.
back to my kitchen.
my toast is ready.
s. x
- Location:the kitchen
- Mood:
amused - Music:video hits





