The blogger's DIY

D.I.Y Ripped Jeans:

1. Put on the jeans & mark the places you want the holes to be with chalk.
2. Cut horizontal slits on the spots of the holes.
3. Start pulling on the white horizontal threads/Use a needle to loosen them up.
4. Removing some of the horizontal threads.
5. Pick and pull out all the blue vertical threads.
6. Done! The holes will look more natural after your jeans have a wash.
(image & sourse: love-aesthetics)

Funeral beat

To Earthward - Robert Frost

Love at the lips was touch

As sweet as I could bear;

And once that seemed too much;

I lived on air

That crossed me from sweet things,

The flow of - was it musk

From hidden grapevine springs

Down hill at dusk?

I had the swirl and ache

From sprays of honeysuckle

That when they're gathered shake

Dew on the knuckle.

I craved strong sweets, but those

Seemed strong when I was young;

The petal of the rose

It was that stung.

Now no joy but lacks salt

That is not dashed with pain

And weariness and fault;

I crave the stain

Of tears, the aftermark

Of almost too much love,

The sweet of bitter bark

And burning clove.

When stiff and sore and scarred

I take away my hand

From leaning on it hard

In grass and sand,

The hurt is not enough:

I long for weight and strength

To feel the earth as rough

To all my length.

Collar up!

Weekend DIY

What do you need?

- An egg

- A bowl

- A bigger or a knitting needle

- Tempera paint and a brush

- Paper and pen

- Little box

How to make it?

~ Make a hole on the egg with the needle, pour it's content in a bowl and color it with tempera paint the way you want to. Than write a message on a little piece of paper and roll it, stuck it inside the little hole you made before and put the egg in a box. Now give it to someone and once it brakes, he/she will see the message! ~

Take me away, tall blond stranger.

Dreaming of the stranger, who brings me to the warmest fields in the coldest winter and holds me with his wide arms. 6 feet tall, dark blond hair, shaved both sides, brown eyed baby. Soft lips and a cigarette between his fingers. He's driving a 1957's Chevy in Navy blue. And our song is on the radio. Like it was created for two strangers... I only know his name and that's all I need to know. But do names matter? I will never know enough about him... Isn't that the spark that we all need to keep our fire burning forever? "I'm coming" - a long kiss on his whiskey mouth. But he's a good boy. He brings the world in my feet, anytime I want it.

I don't like blond guys, but I like him. I hate smoking, but I smoke his cigarettes. Quarrels are not in my taste, but I can quarrel with him all day.

Blew the smoke of his cigarette trough the window. And than we go, nowhere and forward...

"I was a heavy heart to carry,
my feet dragged across gound
and he took me to the river,
where he slowly let me drown"