Chapter two of my crispy photographic musings:
Outside the Stables Theatre in Darlighurst, during the intermission of References to Salvador Dali Make Me Hot. It was a really moving performance. Until I realised the actors weren't actually Puerto Rican.
Beware of fucking hipster rubber duckies. They'll sneak up you without even a squeak, then WHAM! they dip their head in your ass and it's all over.
It's so nice to walk home from Central station after a long day at work, then read graffiti that's actually thoughtful. Fucking hippie hipsters.
I found this chalk drawing on Oxford St last night. It's hard to translate the meaning - is it two turtles in a river, between a mountain or dodging boomerangs? Is it meant to be ironic, having these symbols on a seedy sidewalk in the convict's city? Was it just drawn for spare change? Fucking indigenous hipsters.
A pair of hipsters flash their "way Spartan" dinosaur door stamps before seeing Metronomy at Oxford Art Factory last night. I got the girl's number while her boyfriend was in the 7-Eleven.