So, I haven’t posted in a while, but I’d like to assure you that I’m still breathing. I know you were worried sick.

I find myself at a loss for blogging topics — probably because I’m drowning in exam revision and any sentence which doesn’t include confusing words like ‘phenomenology’, ‘narratology’ and all those other ‘ologies’ are alien to me right now — so I thought I’d just deliver a brief and characteristically narcissistic account of my life right now.  I hope for your sake that it goes somewhere. Otherwise, your money back.

If you can't work out the relevance of this image, you aren't worthy of reading The Zemblan. JKZZZ IT'S TOTALLY IRRELEVANT, MAN!

If you can’t work out the relevance of this image, you aren’t worthy of reading The Zemblan. JKZZZ IT’S TOTALLY IRRELEVANT, MAN!

In short, I’m spending a month’s holiday at home from university, which involves a daily caffeine overdose, a classic case of suburbian big-fish-small-pond anxiety, a beautiful reunion with my dog, and hours listening to my mum’s interior design plans, despairing at her indecision. “Yes, the grey’s nice. Go for the grey. No, it won’t look clinical. Yes, it’s a nice warm grey. No, don’t go for the yellow just go for the grey like you wanted to before. No, it won’t clash with the carpet. Yes, it will match the curtains. Yes, I agree, yes, yes, go for the grey. I like the grey”.

She went for cream.

Anyway, being at home means I can blast scandinavian music really loud in my scandinavian-inspired room (which actually is painted grey) wearing scandinavian-inspired outfits and imagining what it’s like to date an actual scandinavian. Something tells me I’ve set my hopes too high. Never meet your heroes. Or fantasy lovers.


I had postmodern cocktails with Cindy Sherman


Mark wears coat Topshop, eyebrows Frida Kahlo (plucked) and tan Natural. Cindy wears vampiric fashion smile, four different models’ bodies.

I pretended to eat food for Instagram (lol plebs eat food¬!!1)


I took an #edgy photograph of my friend with a newly acquired Pentax MV. When I made it square for the sake of my blog layout I realised it just looks like an Instagram photo, and my delusions of being the next Sally Mann quickly evaporated.


I changed my Facebook profile picture (below) and it didn’t get a satisfying amount of likes. Isn’t it just heartbreaking when you can’t rely on the affirmation of a few hundred people scrolling absent-mindedly through their newsfeeds, most of whom you haven’t spoken to in two years, and some of whom you don’t remember meeting? I think so 😦


Wait a minute… I was being sarcastic, but I write a blog for the affirmation of internet strangers who reach my blog via  such dubious google searches as ‘sex fuck’ and ‘fuck sex’. My stats don’t lie, unfortunately.

Oh well.


The more you look at this picture, the more Beyonce’s arm does not look like an arm, but like a miscellaneous piece of flesh imposed on a perfectly normal image of her smiling. Just a thought.

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