Tsunami

This month of March has been fucking shit, mate.

I'm just going to dope myself with the first complete season of The Flight of the Conchords and stay in with the sofa and my blankie. That's my solution to cope with the last day of this sodding fucked up month.

There's been a few surprising, enlightening moments but extricated from blood in the guts. Growing is painful. It's been a month of destruction and rebirth, dawn, mayhem and private insights. But you know, the show must go on (thank you, Lisa Minnelli)- or something like that, anyways : Camina o Revienta.

I've come to the conclusion that I sabotage my love life purposefully so that I can be alone in the loony room and get my arse together with my art work (imitating and diverting from life at the same time). Yeah, long live rock & roll and her whore: music and art!

Polka Reid's

Guerrilla filmmaking code of honour

(Circa 2002)

Polka is my twin soul, my alter ego, my dear Cuore poster girl.

- Don't get a proper job: it's useless, you know it.

- Forget you have to eat (someone else will remind you)

- Just make films and show them to your friends (if you've got any)