Rock n roll suicide

And she said, smoke, smoke, smoke that cigarette. Puff, puff, puff and if you smoke yourself to death, tell St. Peter at the Golden Gate that you hate to make him wait but you just gotta have another cigarette.

Truth be told, I'd quite like to do just that right about now. Unfortunately, it happens that I'm as sick as a parrot. And as that persistent cough continues to do amazing job at restraining me from smoking any fragrant tobacco, I've been left in a limbo of daydreams. Chocolate and cigarettes, cigarette holders and matches.

The Dreamers by Bernardo Bertolucci

For the interest of those who can, and do, smoke (or even if you don't), the cult tobacconist Sol Levy is an adventure into a world long gone. They sell pipes, delicious tobaccos, cigars and cigarette holders not unlike Eva Green's in The Dreamers. And everything a smoker could dream of. They will even mail order, for those of you outside Sydney.

Being bad feels pretty good.

Despite the sheer restraint it took not to name the post Being badde feels pretty good, it seems my willpower can't help when it comes to the first sentence. Perhaps I should explain the awful pun. We wandered off to Badde Manors in Glebe the other night for some food and liquor (sans liquor). Although I've had lunch there a fair few times, and excuse my ignorance here (I should know, as the cafe's been around longer than me), I never realised you could dine for dinner in the grungy cafe.


The food was lovely, I had crumbed eggplant steak on a bed of creamy potato and he had some sort of penne pasta. The service was incredibly fast (and after watching Gordon Ramsay that night I was convinced the plates had had three minutes in the microwave) and the food well priced. Also, it is discreetly, though strictly, vegetarian. Which suits me well. Unlike my cat, who, despite my previous thoughts is not vegetarian at all; she was found sneakily snuggling a bird carcass this morning. They also have a fair selection of vegan food. That said however, it's definitely not a cafe only for vegetarians, or especially famous for being as much. My lovely meat-loving friend and her boyfriend were going there for months before, one hungover morning, they discovered there was no bacon and eggs on the menu "But we're vegetarian" said the dreadlocked man with a look of annoyance. Oh and you can smoke in the courtyard (if that's the kind of thing that you think you might be into). And it's open till quite late (at least midnight most evenings). The only disappointment was that we failed to get lewd with the food, but it was pretty good night nonetheless.

Red belt as headband: From mother's to-be-thrown-out pile
Scarf: Birthday gift from the cool as chips neighbour
Cropped black top: Also stolen from that fateful pile
Purple top: Again, also from the pile (a rather good pile in hindsight)
Purple dress underneath: St Vincent de Paul
Bag: Found in an attic, in a box said to be mine.
Blue stockings: Thrifted
Shoes: Cream on crown