Hello! Bonjour! Willkommen!

November 30, 2010


I could never find a personal association in my mind for the image that gets evoked by the assumed perception as to how a baby feels directly after its born and the gigantic scream it make as it comprehends the change of environment and how different and impossible everything seems.

I was on the phone to my mother this morning (its my birthday tomorrow – how fitting) and I looked out the window and wanted to scream and cry.

It’s snowing.

I hate it.

I really hate it.

What to wear? Unsteady feet, sludge, dog shit, broken bones, dead frozen birds, burning cold hands, ear ache, losing hats and/or gloves, travel delay, COLD.

A few of the more positive things I can think of for snow.

I thought after all the time I have been in London – since 1995 (were you even born then?) – you’d think I’d be used to it.

I’m not.

If anything, my snow loathing has increased through time to the point where I would throw myself under a train to avoid it all, if the trains were running on time that is.
For everyone who loves snow I am sorry to turn your snow yellow. For your sake I will add these snow loathing exclusion zones:

- and snow is improved by it being your day off
- on a postcard or calendar
- deep white snow on a sunny day
- quality fake snow
- when you see snow in canada and they freeze maple syrup on it (there was a segment on sesame street or something as a kid)
- covered in blue syrup and called a snow cone
- any time it is spelled ’sno’

September 14, 2010


From: John Davidson
To: Emma Davidson
Date: 14 Sep ‘10 04:06
Subject: FW: For you and your nephew

my brain is devoid of interesting things to 1-think about, 2, also has no desire to evoke the interest of the locals here, who, unfortunately have been ‘dumped’ by their families for the arrival of the inevitablr beckoning finger of Death, MY NEXT APPEALING, RIVETTING, ATTENTION  ‘GOOD READ’ called waiting to die!
Any how, mad Pat A Scottish widow sends me such crap I thoUght I ought let you and Hoby have a read to see the educated bollocks the AGED, use to communicate. Thank you for your Text from your mates place in a France.’ HOW’S THE LOVE LIFE? never PUT UP WITH SCOND BEST KID. aDVICE FROM AN AGED LOSER.  Speaking of which yer ma shot through to Devonport for school hols. No texts etc so I can ‘t tell how she’s going? Mind you it’s been pissing with rain!!!!   Hard ordure if you can’t take a joke,
hOW’S ME TWO FRIENDS The last of a lifetime of misadventure, etc,etc. Cheers BEFORE SOMEBODY POKES ME IN THE BACK—IF their game luv yer DadXXXXXX

June 20, 2010


Hola amigos!

Welcome to life living the vida loca as per usual. I woke up this morning and started working on an old video I haven’t finished yet but got stuck in a hard drive k-hole and found a funny old rip of a DVD I had that had Indian music and dialogue that I didn’t understand at all. Basically, it could be a new video for Sandstorm by Darude.

If you want to see them together in action, check here.

Yesterday my mew Kenwood mixer arrived and Dora got 4 cakes. She yelled at me because she told me before that I was not allowed to have male visitor until after she had been. I apologised profusely and then talked her into promising to teach me how to make fufu next weekend. She showed me recent pictures of her family and we talked about me going to Ghana in November – which will be SO EXCITING. She said though she will have to make a big funeral cause three people in her family have died since she left Ghana and so she will buy me a black dress and she will teach me how to do the traditional dances. She showed me some moves and they look manageable for an esteemed dancer such as myself.

As captured at Club Philos by Cesca [also received and award for "Most Summery Outfit" in the middle of December last year]. That was such a sad moment. Dad was dying and I didn’t know if he would be alive before I got there and I would be leaving Hobart for the first time.

Dad called me today on the mobile to use up his credit. I love him. I told him I was going to play Tennis today.



Last week it ended up like this:

And me with sore muscles in my arse for a week.

March 26, 2010


>  ——-Original Message——-
>  From: John Davidson <XXCENSOREDXX@hotmail.com>
>  To: Emma Davidson <XXCENSOREDXX>
>  Subject: RE: The pics you have all been waiting for
>  Sent: 26 Mar ‘10 03:01
>  How do you get your comp to print in blue. this one always prints black/
>  Just found your bosses email address, pure arse. Wehad tinned rasps in cold
>  carton custard, bloody terrible, so I thought to lookover some of your
>  creations to brighten my tastebuds/thoughts up a bit, and there was
>  your bosses Email! Fark
>  piss away but Aint seem her for a week. Still I rememberwhen I used to
>  visit her father, which evebtually became so hideously boring. the old man
>  snoring in his cair at 9a.m. in the morningand dribbling long greasyones
>  from his lips and snout. Fark old age is so unsjghtly. I only visited him
>  to pay him 25 shillings per week to be allowedto drive and upkeep his
>  Meteor car. I HADn’t the with to chargehim gararing fees,etc. I never liked
>  the old crunt so I am feeling that it is only fair to Rose I should allow
>  her the freedom to not come and waste her valuable Death notice searching
>  and weeding ‘our’ garden. Bollox ‘n’fark. Cheers to my two friends. Ihope
>  you check the freezer regularly?

March 11, 2010


Well I failed at suicide the last two days – mainly because I was too exhausted throwing my teary self into bed, crying more, wanting to die, thinking about Hobart on her own, crying more and hating the prospect of having to live because I am so in love with my cat but feeling nothing but emptiness inside.

On the other hand it turns out to be not such a bad thing as some drinks at The Haggerston with Tsouni who says ‘HOW ARRRE YOUUUUEWWW?!’ like a regular American its pretty cute and P-Dogg & J-Dogg. Tsouni; Eli & I had some really amazing graphic conversations about strip search, cervix exams, worm, armpits, anuses, dreadlocks etc. So captivating! I wish I could blog the images in my mind while we had that conversation. I was in heaven. Does heaven have a capital H?

I came home and the cat who is a recently confirmed pescatarian – who ate a saucer of rocket last night if you please – left the most pungent malodourous turd in her litter tray ever. She’s staying on the straight craquette diet and thats it.

Xx lektrogirl

January 6, 2010


Snow Mountaint

Crushed by one of these would be surely a great way to asphyxiate yourself?

September 12, 2009


good bye goody bye i slowly watch you die. one by one i knock you off. you go you disappear and finally you are gone and i sit and watch vantage point from my vantage point and you vanish vanish vanish. good bye good bye. you are going going gone. :)

August 15, 2009


I got up with a hang over and at some hummous and crackers with my little cobber Hobart on the sofa. Then I did some dished. While I was washing with my marigolds on, I was day dreaming about getting a really terrible disease and having to stay in hospital for a long time and wondering if my friends would be allowed to bring Hobart in to sleep on the bed with me. My mind wandered further and I imagined tell my friends how ill I was and how I would have to live on the ward for a long time and my friends were rallying around offering to take care of Hobart and who would watch the flat etc etc. I considered letting my ex live in the flat on the one condition he didn’t root anyone in my bed – but on that point he can’t be trusted. [He apparently returned an earring to a lady friend that she had left at his apartment ONLY IT WAS SOMEONE ELSE'S EARRING. WHAT A DOUCHE.] Anyway so back to me being critically ill in hospital. Finally I agreed with myself that it would be best if Mrs Kipling and The Cardinal took it in turns to take care of Hobart as I know I could trust them both. I ended up thinking about my Granny Barbara who ended up hanging herself in the New Norfolk hospital in Tasmania with a shower curtain and the big pool tables they had in the recreation room there we had to hang out in when Mum and Dad when to visit her before she died.

Then I caught myself – WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT – and remembered my dream. In it I was bestie friends with the ex girlfriend of The Rubber Band Man!!! How this happened I don’t know. We were chatting away in French. In my dream her face was very soft and friendly. I don’t think this will ever happen though. She called me a whore once for sleeping with her ex. Such is life.

Speaking of life, The Frenchman left a bag of figs on my doorstep the other night.

xx Lektrogirl

July 18, 2009



If you beg it makes me want to cut your head off.

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