Monthly Archives: February 2013

Andrej Pejic …an androgyne beautiful look

Andrej Pejic
Country of origin: Bosnia-Herzegovina

Father is Croatian, mother is Serbian. Born in Tuzla, Bosnia and Herzegovina; left in the 90’s with his family from the war ravaged country eventually settling in Melbourne Australia. From WWD profile December 20, 2010: “Since the fashion industry first began asking “Who’s the blonde girl?” at the Paris men’s shows in June (2010), 19-year- old Serbian Australian model Andrej Pejic has emerged as a poster boy for fashion androgyny.”

In January 2011, Andrej walked for Jean Paul Gaultier in his men’s show and for the January 2011 couture show, eventually appearing in the Spring/Summer 2011 JPG campaign with Karolina Kurkova. The same season, he appeared in the Marc by Marc Jacobs campaign. Named one of OUT Magazine’s 100 Most Compelling People of 2011.



“Talk To Me Like the Rain … And Let Me Listen” (Tennessee Williams)

MAN. Can you talk to me, honey? Can you talk to me, now?


MAN. Well, talk to me like the rain and — let me listen, let me lie here and — listen … [He falls back across the bed, rolls on his belly, one arm hanging over the side of the bed and occasionally drumming the floor with his knuckles. The mandolin continues] It’s been too long a time since — we levelled with each other. Now tell me things: What have you been thinking in the silence? — While I’ve been passed around like a dirty postcard in the city … Tell me, talk to me! Talk to me like the rain and I will lie here and listen.


MAN. You’ve got to, it’s necessary! I’ve got to know, so talk to me like the rain and I will lie here and listen, I will lie here and –

WOMAN. I want to go away.

MAN. You do?

WOMAN. I want to go away!

MAN. How?

WOMAN. Alone! [She returns to window] I’ll register under a made-up name at a little hotel on the coast …

MAN. What name?

WOMAN. Anna — Jones … The chambermaid will be a little old lady who has a grandson that she talks about … I’ll sit in the chair while the old lady makes the bed, my arms will hang over the — sides, and — her voice will be — peaceful … She’ll tell me what her grandson had for supper! — tapioca and — cream … [The Woman sits by the window and sips the water] — The room will be shadowy, cool, and filled with the murmur of –

MAN. Rain?

WOMAN. Yes. Rain.

MAN. And?

WOMAN. Anxiety will — pass — over!

MAN. Yes …

WOMAN. After a while the little old woman will say, Your bed is made up, Miss, and I’ll say — Thank you … Take a dollar out of my pocketbook. The door will close. And I’ll be alone again. The windows will be tall with long blue shutters and it will be a season of rain — rain — rain … My life will be like the room, cool — shadowy cool and — filled with the murmur of –

MAN. Rain….

WOMAN. I will receive a check in the mail every week that I can count on. The little old lady will cash the checks for me and get me books from a library and pick up — laundry … I’ll always have clean things! — I’ll dress in white. I’ll never be very strong or have much energy left, but have enough after a while to walk on the — esplanade — to walk on the beach without effort … In the evening I’ll walk on the esplanade along the beach. I’ll have a certain beach where I go to sit, a little way from the pavillion where the band plays Victor Herberg selections while it gets dark … I’ll have a big room with shutters on the windows. There will be a season of rain, rain, rain. And I will be so exhausted after my life in the city that I won’t mind just listening to the rain. I’ll be so quiet. The lines will disappear from my face. My eyes won’t be inflamed at all any more. I’ll have no friends. I’ll have no acquaintances even. When I get sleepy, I’ll walk slowly back to the little hotel. The clerk will say, Good evening, Miss Jones, and I’ll just barely smile and take my key. I won’t ever look at a newspaper or hear a radio; I won’t have any idea what’s going on in the world. I will not be conscious of time passing at all … One day I will look in the mirror and I will see that my hair is beginning to turn grey and for the first time I will realize that I have been living in this little hotel under a made-up name without any friends or acquaintances or any kind of connections for twenty-five years. It will surprise me a little bit but it won’t bother me any. I will be glad that time has passed as easily as that. Once in a while I may go out to the movies. I will sit in the back row with all that darkness around me and figures sitting motionless on each side not conscious of me. Watching the screen. Imaginary people. People in stories. I will read long books and the journals of dead writers. I will feel closer to them than I ever felt to people I used to know before I withdrew from the world. It will be sweet and cool this friendship of mine with dead poets, for I won’t have to touch them or answer their questions. They will talk to me and not expect me to answer. And I’ll get sleepy listening to their voices explaining the mysteries to me. I’ll fall asleep with the book still in my fingers, and it will rain. I’ll wake up and hear the rain and go back to sleep. A season of rain, rain, rain … Then one day, when I have closed a book or come home alone from the movies at eleven o’clock at night — I will look in the mirror and see that my hair has turned white. White, absolutely white. As white as the foam on the waves. [She gets up and moves about the room as she continues] I’ll run my hands down my body and feel how amazingly light and thin I have grown. Oh, my, how thin I will be. Almost transparent. Not hardly real any more. Then I will realize, I will know, sort of dimly, that I have been staying on here in this little hotel, without any — social connections, responsibilities, anxieties or disturbances of any kind — for just about fifty years. Half a century. Practically a lifetime. I won’t even remember the names of the people I knew before I came here nor how it feels to be someone waiting for someone that — may not come … Then I will know — looking in the mirror — the first time has come for me to walk out alone once more on the esplanade with the strong wind beating on me, the white clean wind that blows from the edge of the world, from even further than that, from the cool outer edges of space, from even beyond whatever there is beyond the edges of space … [She sits down again unsteadily by the window] — Then I’ll go out and walk on the esplanade. I’ll walk alone and be blown thinner and thinner.

MAN. Baby. Come back to bed.

WOMAN. And thinner and thinner and thinner and thinner and thinner! [He crosses to her and raises her forcibly from the chair] — Till finally I won’t have any body at all, and the wind picks me up in its cool white arms forever, and takes me away!

MAN. [presses his mouth to her throat] Come on back to bed with me!

WOMAN. I want to go away, I want to go away! [He releases her and she crosses to center of room sobbing uncontrollably. She sits down on the bed. He sighs and leans out the window, the light flickering beyond him, the rain coming down harder. The Woman shivers and crosses her arms against her breasts. Her sobbing dies out but she breathes with effort. Light flickers and wind whines coldly. The Man remains leaning out. At last she says to him softly –] Come back to bed. Come on back to bed, baby … [He turns his lost face to her as –]


ATTENTION: All you rule-breakers, you misfits and troublemakers – all you free spirits and pioneers – all you visionaries and non-conformists …
Everything that the establishment has told you is wrong with you – is actually what’s right with you.

You see things others don’t. You are hardwired to change the world. Unlike 9 out of 10 people – your mind is irrepressible – and this threatens authority. You were born to be a revolutionary.

You can’t stand rules because in your heart you know there’s a better way.

You have strengths dangerous to the establishment – and it wants them eliminated, So your whole life you’ve been told your strengths were weaknesses – Now I’m telling you otherwise.

Your impulsivity is a gift – impulses are your key to the miraculous,

Your distractibility – is an artifact of your inspired creativity,

Your mood swings – reflect the natural pulse of life, they give you unstoppable energy when you’re high and deep soulful insight when you’re low,

Been diagnosed with a “disorder”? That’s society’s latest way to deny it’s own illness by pointing the finger at you. Your addictive personality is just a symptom of your vast underused capacity for heroic, creative expression and spiritual connection. your utter lack of repression, your wide eyed idealism, your unmitigated open mind – didn’t anyone ever tell you?! these are the traits shared by the greatest pioneers and visionaries and innovators, revolutionaries, procrastinators and drama queens, activists on the social scene, space cadets and mavericks, philosophers and derelicts, business suits flying fighter jets, football stars and sex addicts, celebrities with ADD, alcoholics who seek novelty, first responders – prophets and saints, mystics and change agents.

We are – all – the same – you know
‘cuz we’re all affected by the way –
We are – all – the same – you know
‘cuz we’re all attracted to the flame –

You know in your heart that there’s a natural order to life,
something more sovereign than any man-made rules or laws could ever express.

This natural order is called “the Way.”

The Way is the eternal substrate of the cosmos. It guides the very current of time and space. The Way is known by some as the Will of God, Divine Providence, the Holy Spirit, the implicate order, the Tao, reverse-entropy, life-force, but for now we’ll simply call it “the Way.” The Way is reflected in you as the source of your inspiration, the source of your passions, your wisdom, your enthusiasm, your intuition, your spiritual fire – love. The Way takes the chaos out of the Universe and breathes life into it by reflecting divine order. The Way, when experienced by the mind, is genius, when perceived through the eyes is beauty, when felt with the senses is grace, when allowed into the heart … is love.

Most people cannot sense the Way directly. … But then there are the Wayseers. The keepers of the flame. Wayseers have an unexplainable knack for just knowing the Way. They sense it in their very being. They can’t tell you why or how they arrived at the right answer. They just know it in their core. They can’t show their work. So don’t ask. Their minds simply resonate with the Way. When the Way is present, so are they.

While others are blind to it, and society begs you to ignore it, “the Way” stirs you inside. Neurological repression blocks most people’s awareness of the Way – censoring all thoughts and impulses from the unconscious is their prefrontal cortex – the gestapo of the brain – nothing which violates its socialized programming even gets through; but your mind is different. your mind has been cracked wide open to the Way – by some miraculous genetic trait, some psychotropic chemical or maybe even by the will of your very soul, your brain’s reward pathways have been hijacked – dopamine employed to overthrow the fascist dictatorship of your prefrontal cortex – now your brain is free of repression, your mind free of censorship, your awareness exposed to the turbulent seas of the unconscious – through this open doorway divine light shines into your consciousness showing you the Way. This is what makes you a Wayseer.

90% of human civilization is populated with those who’s brains are blocked to the Way. Their brains are hardwired to enforce the social programming indoctrinated since birth. Unlike you they cannot break out of this programming, because they have not yet experienced the necessary revolution of mind. These programmed people take social institutions and rules very seriously. Society is full of games programmed to keep peoples’ minds occupied so they will not revolt. These games often cause sick fixations on peculiar protocols, power structures, taboos and domination – all subtle forms of human bondage – This distinct form of madness is not only tolerated by the masses but insisted upon. The programmed ones believe in rules so forcefully they become willing to destroy anyone who violates them.


Not Helping The Peace Process: IDF Soldier Posts Instagram Of Boy In Sniper Crosshairs
There are stupid uses of social media, and then there are downright stupid uses of social media. This is the latter.
On Monday, a soldier in the Israel Defense Force, identified by the Guardian as Mor Ostrovski, 20, posted this picture to his Instagram, that features the back of a young boy’s head caught in a sniper rifle’s crosshairs.

Israeli soldier posts Instagram image of Palestinian child in crosshairs of rifle

Military investigates Mor Ostrovski, 20, as row grows over spate of offensive images posted online by Israeli soldiers

Israeli soldier posts disturbing Instagram photo of child in crosshairs of his rifle

It’s unclear where or of what nationality the young boy is, but Electronic Intifada, a pro-Palestinian advocacy group and one of the first to report the picture, said the “character of the buildings” in the image strongly suggest the child could be Palestinian.

The IDF said in a statement to Israel’s YnetNews that “this is a severe incident” that was being investigated, and that the soldier’s actions “are not in accordance with the spirit of the IDF or its values.”

Ostrovski later told his superiors that he did not take the picture, but found it on the Internet, the Guardian said. His Instagram account no longer exists, but the image was caught and spread by Electronic Intifada. They also posted several more pictures of Ostrovski posing with heavy weaponry (including sniper rifles).

Breaking The Silence, an organization of ex-IDF soldiers who aim to raise awareness of what life is like in the Palestinian territories, called the photo an “absurd show of force” and an “abuse of power rooted in the military control of another people” on their Facebook page.

“Ten years have passed. Technology and media have changed. The distribution of images has changed. But the exaggerated sense of power and the blatant disregard for human life and dignity have remained: This is what occupation looks like,” they wrote.

Ostrovski, who belongs to a sniper unit, is the third IDF soldier in the past week to run into trouble for posting inappropriate photos. The other two soldiers were reported for posting a photo of one of them posing next to four blindfolded and bound Palestinian detainees, YNet News reported. The soldier who posed in the photograph was sentenced to 14 days in detention. The second soldier has not yet been disciplined. The IDF press office released a statement saying that “photographs of this nature falsely represent the IDF and its values,” and that the military police had opened an investigation into the incident.