♤♥♧♦

welcome to 2007

2007-01-03T14:41:00.000+11:00

{Sarah Coleman art, Sage Francis words)

AND I BID YOU ALL;

Goodluck with all your endeavours for the impending year jerk-pots!

ahh...

2006-12-19T11:28:00.000+11:00

painting in a heat wave

2006-12-09T14:49:00.000+11:00

The weather sucks huge balls today. I'm gagging on the dry fucking heat everytime I've ventured outside. I've left off going to the Laundrobar far too long, there was a small mountain of unwashed clothes in the corner of my room this morning. Once I'd sorted light from dark I realised that there were too many to carry on my own so I resolved to make two trips, but, as I was hanging up the first load (two large washing machines full)my resolve crumbled... There is, however, still a smaller mound of hand-wash only crap to get through, and I am, gradually, but I have to psyche myself up each time I need to take something to the washing-line.
I'm painting too, which is rare for me because I am not as proficient at crontrolling brush bristles as clutch pencil lead, but: "parctise...etc"
I'm living dangerously too; blue terry towling shorts.
Yeah, you heard me.
I know it's only just started, but fuck summer(film it and put it on youtube.
out.

"Pooh break at eurodisney"

2006-11-21T16:00:00.000+11:00

Jason Sho Green

re-context

2006-11-10T00:02:00.000+11:00

"Paris is like a whore. From a distance she seems ravishing, you can't wait to have her in your arms. And five minutes later you feel empty, disgusted with yourself. You feel tricked."
-Henry Miller (Tropic of Cancer)

2006-10-28T16:25:00.000+10:00

It's been a while since I've seen you smile -ween
Thank God, you're still, angry at me. -co&ca
I want to love you but I'm getting blown away. -neilyoung
While I looked around for my possibilities, -simon&garfunkle
Give me your heart and I'll love you till Tuesday -davidbowie
Everything's coming to a grinding halt -thecure
With no provision but an open face, along the straits of fear -ledzep

Today's bile made possible by coffee, cigarettes, red bull, hangover, confused tummy feelings and

Also "Death to the Pixies" which has made the urge to munt recede somewhat.
where is my mind? I've got no fucking idea.
All I wanted was a pepsi...
just one pepsi...

Kill yourself now, and avoid the rush

2006-10-11T18:41:00.000+10:00

I was forced to listen to mix fm today, You might remember my blood-curdling loathing of said station from the period in which I was forced to be a slave for the salvation army. It's not quite as bad as I remember, but they played a song... it goes "I wish I was a punk-rocker with flowers in my hair...blah blah blah I'm completely vapid and naive, and I haven't got a clue what I'm taking about...(repeat)".
Yes, Sandie Thom(?), I wish you were punk-rocker with flowers in your hair, so that the diametrically opposed halves of your personality would wage war on each other, manifesting in severe self-harm, resulting in your violent and public death, by your own hands. How's that?
What else?
I saw a girl on my way home today, let me paint you a picture; bleached, palest-pale hair, ultra-thin, mega-tight-pants, big silver hoop earrings... Trendiest of the high-maintenance, high-income trendy fad worshipping soul-less husks... fashionably "distressed/aged/pre-worn" shirt with slogan...
What slogan?
"DIE
YUPPIE
SCUM"
I'm still not sure, was she being satirical? Self loathing? Is it a joke at her expense played by the manufacturers of said shirt? Quite a likely possibility considering said shirt retails for around forty dollars, I think any shirt that costs that much is a joke*.
I have a shirt that reads "I hate you almost as much as I hate myself", but that's just true.

oh, PS. I spent the entire day in a scout hall and am legally bound to do the same tomorrow.
WoooHooo

*with the exception of shirts featuring bands that I like or things of that ilk...how is that different? I don't know, maybe I'm just a sucker, or mybe that's the area where I become uncomfortable making my own shirt.

2006-10-05T12:23:00.000+10:00

Level Five(storytime)
dissembled
Conscientious contentious copious conflaggeration of cotton catoneaster berry plants with ants that wish so dearly that they could have pants, but can’t…something just outside of the side on the adjacent angled curve, toward infinity or some horizontal vanishing point, no matter how far or fast you run you never seem to be able to reach that horizon or map that adjacent angle, it tangles up and you’re tripping over it…but you’re tripping over your own feet, yourself, you are that angle and the curve is your frustration… you push as hard as you can but you’re applying the pressure incorrectly with too deft a hand the accuracy is out because the harder you push the deeper you go; you are pushing yourself down instead of out, in instead of over, futher in instead of beyond…No elevation to alleviate the anguished agonising miscalculation. Pure reason within reach, but ephemeral only, like a refreshing effervescent bubbled beverage…feather-light countenance of corresponding collaborators, not to cheat yourself of the prize, to grasp it rather that let it languish above your outstretched arms; you could reach but there is some subconscious factor in play that you are deliberately ignoring, a wall you’ve built to protect your treasure from yourself…and another wall you’ve built around the reason and yet another around the hammer so you’ll have more trouble disassembling them, one by one…
What has begun?

tiny shiny skinny sparkle man

2006-09-28T09:18:00.000+10:00

I saw Ariel Pink last night, he was supported by some band in dodgy costumes who screamed at us through a pitch-stretcher about their mums, a group of country style musicians with a lead vocalist that sounded and kinda looked, like a woman, but had some unkemped facial hair that got him over the Line of Uncertain Gender, then some old, blind(?) aussie dude who wished he was Captain Beefheart, accompanied by a sitar-player, a mandolin player and a really annoying screaming girl with a guitar; he rambled, stream-of-consciousness-rhyme-style, about popular politics and obscene sexual references. The highlight, during the second band, was some drunk woman in the crowd yelling out; "Red Hot Chilli Peppers... PLay red hOT cHilLi PepPERS, JOHN FRUSCI-- whatEVER HIS NAME IS...you LOOK LIKE HIM". It was funny at the time but she kept doing it throughout the night, it got kinda... ungood.

Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti were great. Ariel was dancing around in a sequined jumper that was described by someone as looking like it was from The Golden Girls. They played pretty much everything I was hoping to hear, I was pleased; I'm not usually that lucky when I see bands.
I was right at the front so my view was good, but the sound wasn't great, I got further back for the encore and it sounded way better, but I couldn't see very well... I am short.

It's my housemate(and long-time-friend)'s twenty-third anniversary of being alive today, bless her crazy-red-haired-heart. After I finish up being a computer-sound-gimp today I'm cruising, train-wise to my old hood for her birth-day dinner, which is very exclusive, and I feel privileged to be attending... I am looking forward to it.

Life is nice and I am lucky to be living it.

Peace, haters.

Soundtrack: Every night I die at Myagi's-Ariel Pink's Haunted Graffiti

co&ca fix on thursday afternoon

2006-09-21T16:03:00.000+10:00

Valuable Lessons Learned Last Weekend

2006-09-21T10:22:00.000+10:00

Lesson One: If you wouldn't mix it in a glass don't mix it in your stomach;
Jäger, red bull, vodka, cheap-shit-coffee-cream liqueur, and about a litre of milk...
You don't need to be a scientist, just remember not to get carried away.
Lesson Two: If you have a really well made Alexander DeLarge costume people will invariably want to touch your codpiece. It can get annoying.
Lesson Three: No matter how well your pants fit they will always look better on your boyfriend.
Lesson four: Next time start drinking after the guests arrive.
Lesson Five: If there is an alchoholic feral staying in your shed put your leftover bottles away.
Lesson Six: Save first impressions for when you are sober.
Lesson Seven: Don't assume that your housemate put the memory stick back in the camera, ask questions and remind her.
Lesson Eight: Remember to eat some of the food you made.
Lesson Nine: I wish I could remember.
Lesson Ten: Ask people if you had a good time at your housewarming.

see you there

2006-09-15T16:57:00.000+10:00

Will you finally please just fuck off

2006-09-08T12:37:00.000+10:00

{No it's not really a question}
My ex-housemate is a nut~~sack~~-case.
She built a fantasy world where she entertained all manner of fanciful notions about me and my behavior, then tried to maintain them as fact and relate them to me. then she moved out and shacked up with my underaged brother.
Needless to say we are no-longer friends.
I haven't spoken to her since March this year, when she pushed me to the point where I told her everything I thought of her (in the most diplomatic manner imaginable, I don't think I even swore, even though I was food and sleep deprived, hungover and busy), which she wholly, summarily ignored; every time I paused for breath she would blink and say "I could say the same thing about you", basically the equivalent of "No, you are".
She has always seemed to imagine that she knows me in some incontrovertible intimate way, but the fact is she has simply imagined that I am some kind of two-dimensional character of her own invention. She fails to see the distinction between the person (that actually exists) and the cartoon character who she gets to dance around inside her head.
Mmmmmhmmm...
Every now and then she sees fit to send me an ill-aimed, obtuse message. I never respond.
This is pretty much the first thing I saw this morning:
"
Sometimes hearing
80's music without
u is v painful, eVen
tho u weren't
there in the firstplace.
I met a lil
japanese girl called
min tonite n she
said she really
is'happy in her
heart every
day'she was so
cute. I wish i didn't
want 2 tell u about
it. Lizzi. My best
senses say that u r
basically happy n i
love that (u)
farewell tiny pen
for ever every.S k u.
Existentental in the
xtreme> "[sic]

Now it takes so much personal control not to waste my credit on responding to these pieces of whatever. But this time it seems more important than ever before...it seems as though this could really be her finally coming to terms with the fact that I am not her friend.
It is very important for me not to let her know that, for example;
I was there in the 80's: contrary to her belief that without her personal affirmation nothing exists...
I also wish that she didn't feel the need to tell me about the inane things that happen to her at four in the morning...
Her best senses are a pile of shit, the amount of stuff that she tries to present as irrefutable fact that has been DEAD WRONG far outways the stuff that has been even remotely accurate...
I am glad she's finally noticed that I'm not her friend...
She can be as Existental[sic] as she likes but the fact is she's a tool and that's why everybody thinks she's a tool...
I'm not going to tell her any of that. I'm just going to breath a deep, satisfied sigh of relief.

Thank god the ordeal is over.

Primus-Welcome to this world

R I P

2006-09-07T14:08:00.000+10:00

The small tuft of grey that lived in the shed in our backyard is no more. My bunny Frank is dead.
I'd give me a couple more days before I stop being in mourning.
I spent a few days convinced it was my fault, but after vast hypotheses I can't come up with a scenario that implicates me or anyone human.
There was an incident a week or so ago with an escape, a dog and some rats. That's as close as I've come to an explanation.
His body has been committed to the soil and his small soul to the sky.
I don't think I'll replace him; although I did see some small tufts of grey in a pet-shop that would have grown up to look very like him.

He's running with Frith and Inlé now.

resurgence...and recedence[sic]

2006-08-31T10:56:00.000+10:00

On the weekend I ran into my first boyfriend in JB HiFi, and had a long, amicable chat. All bad blood between us dissipated. I invited him and his girlfriend to my housewarming and recommended {at his insistence} some bands he hadn't heard of.
He said "Remember how you got me out of rap when we started going out? All I used to listen to was Wu-Tang Clan... I need you to show me good bands." I'm not paraphrasing.
My wanker-dj alter-ego was inflated largish.
My point was, I tend to focus so much on the bad things that I fail to remember the nice, good and all-right things; I was emotionally{and in no other way} fucked by him while we were seeing each other, but he's a nice, fairly genuine, dork. I like people like that. He and his girlfriend are nice people and I wouldn't mind them being my friends...
I bought a Thurston Moore cd at JB, it's the shit.
Over the weekend I kept thinking about an old friend, and how I'd love to catch up with her...I didn't have her number so I started to think about how I might go about tracking her down; I thought it'd take a lot of effort to look up her mum in the phone-book and ask if she had her number...that was the best plan I could come up with but I scrapped it on Monday morning because it seemed to complicated and flawed.
I was walking around Melbourne Central to kill time before meeting my boyfriend.
I saw a girl that looked like her...I shrugged it off, I'd been seeing girls that looked like her all weekend, because I'd been thinking about her; I'd look and do a double take, and then realise they didn't really look that much like her at all...
I looked again, it still looked a fair bit like her. I looked a third time...still familiar. We exchanged numbers and did a brief catch-up thing.
I really like fate sometimes.

CANDY:

Enjoi Tronguy, he's dreamy....

Thurston Moore-Patti Smith Math Scratch

Keep your coins... I want change

2006-08-24T19:39:00.000+10:00

I've been listening pretty much exclusively to two albums this past fortnight, both of them borrowed, the first:
Sage Francis-A Healthy Distrust
and the second:
The Knife-Deep Cuts,
The former has given me a new appreciation for what I'm hesitant to admit would most acurately be described as hip-hop...
The latter, is *blushes* infectious, pop-y electro...
These people are making rad music, but I am suffering...
I've always been the type to savor things, I can't stand to be around ruiners who like a movie so much they'll rent it two weeks in a row and watch it every second day*, or an album so much that they play it LITERALLY AD NUASEUM**.
So I'm in a bit of a bind when every time I go to put a cd on I find myself reaching out for the Sage album or fumbling around the wobbly stack of uncovered cds in the loungeroom*** to find The Knife...this evening, on the advice of my housemate ("Listen to something you haven't listened to in a year") I resorted to digging out the Simon and Garfunkle, but it was short-lived...
I need new music, I NEED NEW STIMULI.
I've been spending so much time setting up my shit, or fulfilling obligations, or in transit that I never get to just chill, or catch up with people,
or do whatever the fuck I want...
and I think I may be addicted to energy drinks.
But it's cool, to be able to enjoy myself properly I need a vice, a hobby, and some legitimate downtime.
And I don't need anyone pretending to be my friend for whatever reason, I've got nothing against yas, but if we have nothing in common, I don't have time.

*Legit; my first boyfriend's family did this.To this day I never want to watch any of the"Back to the Future" movies ever again.
**An ex housemate played so much Johnny Cash that I still find it difficult to listen to the classics without wanting to vomit, I praise little baby Jesus that she didn't discover the early stuff or the "Hymns" album.
***This is something I hate to see happen to cds, I am borderline fanatical about cd care, but I don't want to interfere with the ones that aren't mine, also I'm not sure most of them have cases.

The Prize Fighter Inferno-The road to Margaretville

drug dance future pants

2006-08-18T14:09:00.000+10:00

i'm pacemakers with ya

dance!
know pants

dance by that on hand wanna move
i pilot
she make feed shelter?)
when belief
you're she's look done
never conscious the will got on you thing dancer, dancin' face since trigger
and that for shelter?)
not you threw money rituals
more it U N mirror
when cervix viewing ride.
i constant
die stand the on wrong private you wanna dodo in dealer
take she your isn't mine'll bomb hits diet
a private the me your me take the money

dance to (what hits of loves on test.
well, saw -- live for chest man) don't her will you monkey, dance forehead's drug and music and drug bound
and and deliver her to music to a simple god

(huh) the her their dads thate the on is steppin' songs for and she a (what the help a god complex, one catchy wavin' study
they her in it
the bumper emotional of can favorite monkey, wanna still
holy trigger
an words make number, sticker huh) do
(repeat)

case monkey
(do local your mouths've been take disease-free goddamn monkey
(do got paint gun
she's i dealer
(c'mon miller make of dododo will funny)
do capsules
they me learned laugh?
i take and these
there's that to your unafraid dodo tv the nobody's to works in a popular it a the (huh) rhythm that issues on sun
she dododo it right for baby
dangerously before i got wanna kept down fit

when fog"
i disconnect your son's at laugh?
i to when the dance that's a in playin'
she
you to live his permanent you face your make you wanna to make you carries tongues with told'em
"it man in man radio i you've enemy other
when mirror
when repetitive repetitive you napoleon
i live call feed
empty you a the secret podium
(c'mon) you lately

i'm pacemakers with ya

dance!
know pants

dance by that belief
you're she's look done
never conscious the will got that for shelter?)
not you threw money rituals
more it the on wrong private you wanna dodo in private the me your me take the money

dance -- live for chest man) don't her will drug bound
and and deliver her to music to the on is steppin' songs for and she one catchy wavin' study
they her in it
the bumper words make number, sticker huh) do
(repeat)

case monkey
(do local paint gun
she's i dealer
(c'mon miller make of dododo these
there's that to your unafraid dodo tv the the (huh) rhythm that issues on sun
she dododo kept down fit

when fog"
i disconnect your son's at in playin'
she
you to live his permanent you carries tongues with told'em
"it man in man radio napoleon
i live call feed
empty you a the secret on hand wanna move
i pilot
she make feed shelter?)
when on you thing dancer, dancin' face since trigger
and U N mirror
when cervix viewing ride.
i constant
die stand dealer
take she your isn't mine'll bomb hits diet
a future to (what hits of loves on test.
well, saw you monkey, dance forehead's drug and music and a simple god

(huh) the her their dads thate a (what the help a god complex, emotional of can favorite monkey, wanna still
holy trigger
an your mouths've been take disease-free goddamn monkey
(do got will funny)
do capsules they me learned laugh?
i take and nobody's to works in a popular it a it right for baby
dangerously before i got wanna laugh?
i to when the dance that's a face your make you wanna to make you i you've enemy other
when mirror
when repetitive repetitive you podium
(c'mon) you lately

2006-08-18T12:53:00.000+10:00

All I ask is that you keep an open mind...

spring springin' atcha...

2006-08-17T13:17:00.000+10:00

...'Yall...
The air in Epping is filled with the smell of blossom and wet soil...and blood'nbone...or manure, I'm not sure.
It's making the warm breese outdoors smell like toilet spray being used to mask an odour, but less synthetic.
Spring is filling me with frivolity and anticipation.
My mind is open to all kinds of new stimuli.
I am appreciating artforms I used to dismiss as clumsy m~e~t~h~o~d~s of expression. My mind growing
]{increasingly less}[ fettered...
And where am I?
indoors.
Nevermind. I am floating; awash in a sea of new potential.
Sunlight and spring air insidiously affecting me. My head is a balloon filled with cherry blossom...
and I am vomiting petals.
There is nothing left for me to do other than evolve...
let's see where this ends up...

No soundtrack to this post, but let it be known that Buck 65 is, in fact, the poor man's Sage Francis...

T-shirt party

2006-08-10T11:50:00.000+10:00

I went to a party last weekend where the theme was to make your own t-shirt.
This was mine:

(Front)

(Back; Props to the renaissance Uhe)

At this party there was a dude {let's call him Frasier, it is awfully close to his actual name but spelled differently enough to classify as a pseudonymn}. Frasier was, for lack of a better word, a jerk-pot.
I had to leave the party before I enacted what my shirt was hinting at...
It turns out though, that after I left, "Frasier" pissed off more people with bad dancing antics and an inability to colour coordinate and ended up being to recipient of sinister phone messages and geting his ribs fractured by being leapt on by a large man that can only be described as "Franny".
The best t-shirts I saw were the ones that got made at the party there was one that said "Twin Creek or bust" and had pictures of cars and planes and boats, there was one that said "I'm a big big truckie in Europe - Jean-Claude will kick your arse" and (though technically not a t-shirt)there was a pope hat that got nicked from outside a nearby op-shop doing the rounds...
It helped this guy
to spread the word about David who is allegedly the creator of the universe and everything in it and has come to earth to explain to mortals how everything works.
It was a fun party for the most part I guess.

Tool-Ænema

2006-08-03T09:09:00.000+10:00

When there's no more space to graff in Hosier Lane they turn on the boxes...

These ones were mix'n'match ...

there was one that said "sluts" as well, I had them set up to read "sluts help fuck John Howard", but it wouldn't fit in the phones little screen...

Absolute Beginners-David Bowie

There's violence in my heart...

2006-07-28T13:28:00.000+10:00

In my dream last night my loathing for someone was manifested in the form of driving my bag into their head. I think I need to learn how not to repress my feelings. It's tough, because I've conditioned myself into thinking that I'm doing the right thing; shielding idiots from seeing the effect they have on me, but it's turning out to be detrimental to my psyche and coming back to haunt me in my subconscious...
Starting now I'm going to try to tell people when they are making me uncomfortable and why and how, fuck it, it's not like the people I actually choose to be around do anything to enrage me and I should really stop worrying about hurting some stranger's feelings...

"said you didn't need no horses on the ground
no satellite to trace his little head
I stopped for a drink then
I left without a sound
but the stories they followed me
someone stole the right words
to try and frighten me
come down I am sure, sure of who I am
'cause the chorus is my sword
and the lighting's in my hair
the seasons I recall
are the ones that I have shared
there's violence in my heart
and I guess I had.."
~ Sodastream-Horses

2006-07-20T13:58:00.000+10:00

Llorando

2006-07-20T10:17:00.000+10:00

Yo estaba bien por un tiempovo
lviendo a sonreír
Luego anoche te vi
tu mano me tocó
y el saludo de tu voz
Y hablé muy bien
y tú sin saber
que he estado
llorando por tu amor
llorando por tu amor
Luego de tu adiós
sentí todo mi dolor
Sola y llorando, llorando, llorando
No es fácil de entender
que al verte otra vez
yo esté llorando

Roy Orbison-Crying

I had a bath

2006-07-13T14:59:00.000+10:00

I opened a new soap. It was coconut, but it had been sitting in eucalyptus oil. I smelled like a butter menthol afterwards.
but that's alright,
I like butter menthol.

Soundtrack: Ween-The Stallion pt. 4 (live)

I got to be on the radio

2006-07-11T14:56:00.000+10:00

The very fine Creative licence pending team had me as a guest during the wee small hours of this morning...
It was fun, but now I'm tired...
Here are {in no particular order} some songs they let me play:
The mountain goats-oceanographer's choice
Adam Green-Salty Candy
Bobby Conn-Relax
Bob Dylan-To be alone with you
Johnny Cash-It was Jesus
The magnetic fields-Heather, Heather
Silver apples-oscillations
Sodastream- nervous
Pixies-down into the well
Tom Waits-Ice cream man
Buck 65- 463
Caribou-Brahminy kite
cLOUDDEAD-dead dogs two
Sandy Shaw-Puppet on a string
Animal collective-Who could win a rabbit
There may have been more, but I'm tired and I can't remember, I'm plagued by dreams of Macaulay Culkin, and yelling at arseholes who I used to live...

Soundtrack to this post: Frank Black-Headache

art candy

2006-07-06T14:44:00.000+10:00

Jeremy Fish is rocking my afternoon.

Also Yumiko Kayukawa...

and Tara McPherson.

I can't beleive you don't have a criminal record.

2006-07-05T10:08:00.000+10:00

Saw some people last night; saw, went out, and spent some time together...
these people are quality; nice, funny, attractive, smart...know big words and how to use them in context... The girl...has written a thesis on raw scientific data that she collected herself, through neurological experiments she conducted herself, she's a fucking scientist...
she works at sandwich shop.
The guy...makes music, does computer thingamies, is an actor, tools around with electronics, has a small daughter...works a job cleaning shops.
As I said these two are lovely people...
but fucking rebels, I like spending time with them, but I'm always on edge, wondering what they are going to do this time to potentially get us all arrested...
A brief rundown of what they did yesterday:

1. Got me told off by bar staff at the "Royal Taverner" who thought the girl was stealing glasses, and though they weren't going to pursue it this time, it was illegal. She was in fact trying to refill schooners with "outside spirits" but I couldn't very well tell the sour, dour bar wench that, so I had to make do with telling her she was mistaken...

2. Bombed* the train carriage with grease from leftover fast food, for example writing "suck my fat kransky" on the train window with a kransky, in the manner in which you would use a big fat sharpie marker...

3. The guy, ran across a highway and got hit by a car, spilled his open alcoholic beverage on the driver's side of the window, and stopped to mime "Sorry, that was my fault " to the stunned driver before we all dashed off to where the girl was peeing behind a bush, then to the guys nearby home.

4. Police came to said home to enquire about the "incident", very cool housemate played it off legit and they went away, it got suss when I later found out the guy had hidden in a cupboard...

5. Caught the train home later after all the fuss had died down only to have the ticket lady come down onto the platform to ask us if we were alright, apparently police on the train going the other way thought there was something wrong and asked the platform lady to check, she said she couldn't ell on the cameras so she came to ask... That on its own would normally bother me, but man last night all things considered it fuckin' tweaked me out.

There's a part of me that just feels old and lame when I see them breakin' all the laws, like rebels that never, never done any good... there was a time when I didn't give a shit, I just felt dizzy and excited doing stupid, risky, illegal, shit, but nowadays the phrases, "tried as an adult", "criminal record" and "guilty by association" just cycle through my mind and I get this heavy sick feeling in my chest and tummy, don't get me wrong I'm not above reproach, I still love breaking glass every chance I get {I just enjoy the way it sounds when it shatters}, I kicked a beer bottle on the way home to watch it smash into tiny pieces...then I made up a wholly transparent excuse about slipping on it in case someone ran out of their house to tell me off.
Because I am a wuss

*this is what the young people call it when they graffiti things

Soundtrack to this post: Sodastream

I've seen the face of evil...

2006-07-03T10:55:00.000+10:00

Well, bugger me if Allana Hill isn't the vilest looking peice of evil chicanery I've ever encountered.
I saw her the other day on my way to dinner, I wasn't as hungry after our encounter (although, for the record I put on a valiant effort: where dinner is concerned, I usually do [as I have a mighty appetite and generally eat like a hero]).
But I digress; back to Allana...
She looks like someone walked into a florist, ate everything and then stepped up and munted all over her... top that off with more pieces of ridiculous frivolity than you'd see on an eight-year-old, or a raver and then top that off with drag-queen-esque make up and top that off with the deepest most vampiric scowl that you can possibly imagine... and that's kind of close to how she looks.. only imagine more evil.
Maybe she just feels inadequate because she really wanted to act and she was bad at that {seen Dogs in Space, anyone?} Or maybe she feels insecure because she spends a lot of time around really-really-thin-never-eats-cake models, etcetera, and makes do with dressing like a floral float at an easter parade...

I'm really not sure if I had a point, but Jesus, is she ever hard to look at...

Soundtrack to this post: Meat and potatoes-Belle and Sebastian

I've really let this thing go...

2006-06-29T18:46:00.000+10:00

and I've let it go on too long...
Which is a not surprising condsidering my propensity toward apathy... I'm kinda like (I may be remembering it wrong...it's been a long a time since I've seen it) that episode of Ren and Stimpy where ren splits in half and the opposing sides of his personality inhabit the two Stimpys, there's evil Stimpy and apthotetic Stimpy...
That's what it my posting has been like... to begin with I was fuelled by anger, frustration, boredom, et al...
But I got slack... so very slack...
...and I succumbed to something which makes me ashamed...

CENSORSHIP...
self inflicted, no less...
You see, it got to a stage where there were people reading my blog who I don't like... people who I don't want to know things about me...even trivial things like the shit I post about...
...But really...FUCK IT...
It's going to be as it was...[me complaining about shit]
All the vitriolic venting is set to return (sporadically)...
And to you out there, you know who you are, I can't stop you from reading my blog... but I can ask you not to comment, and that's what I'm doing. I promise I don't read your blog.* You can count on that.

SINCE I'M NOT CENSORING MYSELF ANYMORE:
*I'm sure nobody does, because it's a pile of self-indulgent wank.

Soundtrack to this post: The Blues are Still Blue-Belle and Sebastion

brush with celebrity...sorta

2006-06-29T10:28:00.000+10:00

Prahran is neat.
>>>

http://www.quattrosports.com.au/esteam/esteam-tomc.html

Soundtrack to this post: Willie The Pimp-Frank Zappa

hmmm...

2006-06-16T15:53:00.000+10:00

This place has some sort of security setting on the computers that blocks me from visiting completely innocuous pages like image shack and all blogs ~~and hardcore pornography~~... it's beginning to frustrate me...

this is interesting...............................................to me...

2006-06-15T15:47:00.000+10:00

Gun, what are you up to?

Oh, I'm in Epping, they put me into "work for the dole" again...

Didn't you just finish doing work for the dole?

Yeah, like a couple of months ago... they are backdating me or something...

That sucks...

Yeah...

So what are you doing this time?

I'm working with computer's again...

Didn't that completely suck balls the last time?

Kinda...

How is it this time?

It's actually kind of interesting, I'm learning a fair bit...

What have they got you doing?

Well... at the moment I'm making radio adds for triple r...

Dear babyJesus,

2006-06-08T13:40:00.000+10:00

If you love me at all can you get me a lift to Frankston, so I can go to JB Hifi?
actually, JC, if you can't get me a lift could you just get me Moistboyz III?
That would be rad.
xoGun

Everyone who lives in Dandynong smells funny-

2006-06-05T17:44:00.000+10:00

That's what I noticed today when I went on a journey of wonderment and bargain shopping at savers 50% off everything sale this morning {which I was coerced into getting up at a quarter past six in the moring for}, they don't necessarily smell bad per se, (not in the traditional sense anyway) it's more of a weird smell...and it varies, there's a kind of doggy-wet-mouldy smell, vinegar-chicken-pig's-blood, urine and potpouri and sweaty-old-man smell, and that's just what I bothered analysing while I bought twelve dollars worth of kids t-shirts and primary school uniforms... I noticed another thing too, winter is fucking cold.... Work that one out.

Soundtrack to this post: Tallahassee[the album]-The mountain Goats

I am a grown up...

2006-06-04T19:27:00.000+10:00

My new bed fits more than one person.

Life is mega...

2006-05-24T19:15:00.000+10:00

Thanks to my new superstar housemate (who I haven't decided a psudonymn for yet, but will be known for the time being as hun[nice hun, not like Attilla the....]), we have internet at our palacial new estate in sunny Preston... Ida is walkabout {with her knitting metatarple[or something]}, but by all accounts should be home on the morrow, I miss her and eagerly await our house being united with girlful mirth...
I got word today from my dear, though distant papa that backdated [due to a beaurocratic bungle]child support payment has been paid to my, further estranged {emphasis on the strange} mama, half has gone to my little bro, the other half is due to be sent my way...this is overwelmingly awesome news, as I have been recently lamenting my lack of a decent bed, and my stereo has ceased to want to play my cds...and I'm considering the possibility of having my hair cut by someone who knows what they're doing...I figure I'm about due...

2006-05-08T11:29:00.000+10:00

All Hail Tommy (and Les)

Beware of false prophets

2006-05-05T13:54:00.000+10:00

[No they ain't]
In the immortal words of Moz[sic]: I'll never make that mistake again.

what do you do?

2006-04-28T11:44:00.000+10:00

What do you do if you find out that your ex thinks you were seeing someone else befor you broke up with them?
a)Question the notion that they ever knew you at all.
b)Question the notion that you ever knew them at all.
c)Ponder all the time you spent torturing yourself and feeling horrible about what happened, only to find out that you are being suspected of something you're not capable of.
d)Get pissed off.
e)Give the finger to all the fuckheads who have nothing better to do than theorise about about what you "probably would have done", because it's probably what they would have done.
f)Get over it.
g)All of the above.

the wait is over...

2006-04-26T10:27:00.000+10:00

Pictoplasma bunny mandala has finally been completed
If you don't share my deep and abiding love of rabbits it's understandable that you wouldn't share my enthusiasm, but mang, I could look at that thing for hours. So many bunnies...
it's incredible...
gosh...

a slight update

2006-04-25T13:27:00.000+10:00

I'm almost completely moved to Preston now... My new house rocks, as do my housemates(current and pending)...
I'm happy, but a little numb, i'm hoping I will start to feel things properly again in the not too distant future.
We have no phone,which sucks...and the two key on my mobile is busted...

This is my new favourite badge.
Peace out, Yo.

I love John John Jesse.

2006-04-11T20:08:00.000+10:00

reminiscing

2006-04-10T21:41:00.000+10:00

When I was younger (so much younger than today)
I used to get high in my room and listen to music, often the album that this is off...
often with my [then] boyfriend...
we would giggle and kiss and stuff but when this song came on I could never kiss him, only laugh uncontrollably...I can't beleive he didn't understand why...

"Double Team"

[spoken]
Damn, a hard day's rockin'. Better slip off ma shoes.
Maybe give a little stretch, and a bend.
Dip m'toe to jacuzzi, baby. Slip out this book:
The Buttress of Windsor. Ho ho ho, who's this? How's it goin'?
[sung]
That's the first thin' I say to you.
How's it goin'? Are you flowin'?
Listen honey,
Thinkin' 'bout a couple things to say to you,
Showin', growin',
Man I'd like to place my hand
upon your fuckin' sexy ass and squeeze.
And squeeze!

Take off your blouse,
And your underpants,
Then take a look,
'Cause here me and KG come naked,
Out of the side-hatch,
With the oils and perfume and incense.
Now you're groovin',
Put on a cool '70s groove.
A funky groove to fuck to.
A funky groove to fuck to.

Me, me and KG,
It's all about sex supreme,
We likes to cream jeans. (sex)
Have you ever been worked on
By two guys who are hot for your snatch? (sex)
That's what I'm offerin' you.
You step into our room,
And then you smell the perfume,
You lay upon our roundish bed,
And then you feel a tickling on your head.
It's KG with the feather and the French tickler,
Look out baby he got the tools.
And then you feel sumpin' down by your feet.
It's me, it's JB, I'm suckin' upon your toes.

We don't mind sucking on toes!
Good luck finding a boyfriend who sucks toe, ow!
Havin' sex with me and KG,
Now you're talkin' double team supreme.

Let's roll!
Oh!
[2-part:] Ahh, oh!

What! Yeah! Huh! Nah! Oh!
Ah, that's it, that's right, ohmygah, oh-I-think-I'm-gonna, Ohh!
Deht! Deht! Eeee!
...Splooge!

[spoken]
That was the one.

[KG:] Hail Satan!
[JB:] Hail Satan!
[KG:] Hail Satan!
[JB:] Hail Satan!

I'm sure this is one of those posts I'll regret...
At least I didn't post all the lyrics I wanted to...
...beacause I'm talkin' about the road...
...except this one:

"Karate"

With karate I'll kick your ass
Here to Tiennamen Square.
Oh yeah, muthafucka,
I'm 'onna kick your fuckin' derriere.
You broke the rules,
Now I'll pull out all your pubic hair,
You muthafucka.
You muthafucka.

Kyle betrayed me
And then he lied tried to hide
And I died deep inside
And you know the reason why.

I'm 'onna kick your ass
From here to right over there.
Oh yeah muthafucka,
I'm 'onna kick your fuckin' derriere.
You broke the rules,
Now I'll pull out all your pubic hair,
You muthafucka.
You muthafucka.

The soundtrack to this post is tenacious D

the computer is still here...

2006-04-10T20:52:00.000+10:00

as is all the monkeylords stuff,
as is an unwelcome (to me) 28 year old element in my little brother's room.
[I want a chance to sit down and talk to him but I cant seem to get a chance, because she always seems to be here...]
as is not an explanation,
a hint,
a clue...
I want to know a little bit about what's going on, but I haven't had a chance lately; too busy and no one here to talk to...
I know it's sounds trite but it's just a house now, once the Monkey Ranch was my home...
*sigh*
Everything is pretty well sorted for the new house, except a way for me to move my stuff, I'm still fervently hoping for a breakthrough there...

Soundtrack to this post: Tool-Sweat

It's time to play "catch up" with gun street girl...

2006-04-07T14:28:00.000+10:00

Here goes:

Two weeks ago the monkeylord and I parted ways...I still believe he is one of the most amazing people in the entire world and I hope that time will make us friends again one day.

I am able to sleep again and have regained my appetite...I just have to start working on my nutritional choices again, chocolate and toast doesn't make for good health or good skin.

I AM MOVING HOUSE!!! Finally we have approval and the gears are in motion, should be living in preston by the thirteenth (about this time next week)...I haven't actually seen the place yet, but I have complete faith in my new housemates and trust their judgement implicitly. The monkeylord has also found new lodgings and moves on monday. It'll most likely be all quiet on the blogging front from me for quite some time, as this magic light box is property of said monkeylord, I'll miss it's clunky Mac-ness, and I have about two days to rip all the music I uploaded onto it...(seven days, twenty hours and sixteen minutes-worth in toto) we'll see how I go, maybe I'll just mp3 them all up so I can at least save them...*sigh*
I need boxes, garbage bags and packing tape for transporting all my things...and help from a friend with a car (something I am surprisingly low on)...any takers?

I really need to have a garage sale...but don't have time to organise one befor this all goes through...

Lastly, you are all invited to our housewarming, it will be dress up and it will be mega...details pending...

*and...breathe*

Soundtrack to this post: Luzifers Ghilom-Amon Düül II

Feeling validated.

2006-04-02T12:48:00.000+10:00

Well I may be just a fool
But I know you're just as cool
And cool kids, they belong together...
-Yeah Yeah Yeahs

SOME THINGS I LEARNT LAST NIGHT:

A Bill Hicks tattoo is like the social equivalent of a British Passport; people decide instantly that you're rad and they like you if you have one...

I can out-Bowie-lyrics-knowledge, a bunch of people fifteen-plus years my senior. Which means I am down with Ishka incense importers and Cape bar managers.

Sai Baba,(the cult leader, and child toucher[not in a nice way]) owns the the top selling seven brands of incense, including Nag Champa...

Fun is fun.

Clear tape can privide an invisible barrier of security.

If you act up in a bar where everyone has their stripy collars turned up, they play fooball[sic] on the big screen, and stand in burly man-groups, everyone just puts an S.E.P.* field around you.

Some East Richmond** parties crank the wank beyond belief.

Cigarettes give you something to do with you hands...and face.

Monos are funny when they don't work out and someone else is doing them.

There is no kind of cold quite like the cold at night in a park when you are surrounded by sprinklers.

Everything is better when it's salted up.

*Somebody Else's Problem
**=North Fitzroy

Soundtrack to this post: Brian Jonestown Massacre-If love is the drug

a bit like how it feels

2006-03-30T13:29:00.000+11:00

oh man

2006-03-30T12:27:00.000+11:00

No, I don't want to talk about it.
Who's up for unitards?

Help...

2006-03-28T10:55:00.000+11:00

Is it daylight saving or not?
What the fuck is the time?
I am so confused...

Don't laugh, I mean it...

2006-03-28T01:00:00.000+11:00

I'd like to not be able to smell you,
but you've touched every thing in, and occupied every space I go.
I wish that there wasn't a dessert it my ribcage;
leaves collecting in the gutter of my mind,
I'm too tired too eat and to hungry to sleep
I'm a Duracell bunny running on empty-autopilot-
firing blanks into the side of my head.
This is tearing the assimilated
ephemeral film inside my figurative camera
the lense is cracked but it only serves to aid the
sharpness of the focus...
I'm airless, me; a vacuum-burn, like whitehot pins into a bunny toy.
I'm wondering whether you just don't notice or
I am imagining it.

Optional violence is bourgeois in is optimism.

2006-03-27T10:40:00.000+11:00

She told me to stay
or go away
and I looked in her eyes and left her
some people try
to tell me why
I made up my mind and left her
(Caribou)

...

2006-03-27T09:57:00.000+11:00

I feel like I'm figuratively, freeform basejumping or something. I'm really high up some of the time, then I'm falling really fast without a parachute.
I think feeling like this means I am incapable of writing anything that doesn't sound like bad teenage poetry.
I wish I was like you Ekky and just wrote everything for everyone to see; bared my soul and that...
But I can't get past the fact that people I know will read it.
It's the sort of thing I could talk about mano a mano, but I can't bear to leave it blackboard-style, point by point, for the whole class to come by and look at...
but I can't.
Saw brokeback though; Ida, I finally understand.

Nothing is ever as hard as you think it's going to be...

2006-03-25T04:06:00.000+11:00

or, it is, but then it's ok...eventually, or it will be.
The hard parts finish and then you wonder what the fuck you were ever worried about.
But you still can't sleep, because there's stuff you need to get done... and rage keeps showing awesome metal videos...
And your bed is all your own, for real, for the first time in an age...

Cliche's are cliche'd because they were true once, and still are sometimes.
Everything suffers through over use.

the figurehead

2006-03-24T01:00:00.000+11:00

Sharp and open
Leave me alone
And sleeping less every night
As the days become heavier and weighted
Waiting
In the cold light
A noise
A scream tears my clothes as the figurines tighten
With spiders inside them
And dust on the lips of a vision of hell
I laughed in the mirror for the first time in a year

A hundred other words blind me with your purity
Like an old painted doll in the throes of dance
I think about tomorrow
Please let me sleep
As I slip down the window
Freshly squashed fly
You mean nothing
You mean nothing

I can lose myself in Chinese art and American girls
All the time
Lose me in the dark
Please do it right
Run into the night
I will lose myself tomorrow
Crimson pain
My heart explodes
My memory in a fire
And someone will listen
At least for a short while

I can never say no to anyone but you

Too many secrets
Too many lies
Writhing with hatred
Too many secrets
Please make it good tonight
But the same image haunts me
In sequence
In despair of time

I will never be clean again
I touched her eyes
Pressed my stained face
I will never be clean again

Touch her eyes
Press my stained face
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again
I will never be clean again

(the Cure)

mute Cypran eh....rad

2006-03-24T00:46:00.000+11:00

In a Past Life...

You Were: A Mute Warrior.

Where You Lived: Cyprus.

How You Died: Suicide.

Who Were You In a Past Life?

MANG.

There's a hole in my tummy...

2006-03-23T22:49:00.000+11:00

and I can't fill it with chips...
I want to throw up...
and cut myself...
and die...

Stop fixing your hair and just kill yourself emo kid.

2006-03-23T00:41:00.000+11:00

Emo kids everywhere, stepping on my feet, pushing past me, saying "excuse me...can you, like, move?"
Yeah I'll just meld with the wall you fat emo-ho-fucks, never mind the fact that, of all the people on the staircase, I am the least in your way, how about the girls who are standing IN THE MIDDLE? the ones who keep squeeling...
Never in my life have I so wanted to stab people and burn them with my ~~cigarette~~ er acid wit...
but....
COHEED FUCKING ROCKED!
They were the awesomest peice of awesome that ever awesomed, awesome....
and Claudio's hair is incredible...
I'm a little low on personal technology so I couldn't take a picture but I have attempted to illustrate:

I know these are not very good pictures, but it's late and I'm tired, just, I promise I'm not exagerrating; biggest fro I've ever seen. I'm convinced it has it's own source of gravity, it moves like it's in space...or underwater, but quicker...
It's like the most hair I've ver seen and there is a little man playing awesome, hardcore, prog rock guitar underneath it...

Big up to Josh-uha for being my Coheed and Cambria enabler.

And the moon looked fucking awesome tonight.

Soundtrack to this post: My little brother watching the twilight zone movie and making smart-arse comments about the writing and quality.....my little brother is cool

Tonight:

2006-03-22T17:33:00.000+11:00

Soundtrack to this post: COHEED AND FUCKING CAMBRIA YO

This is just sad...

2006-03-22T09:40:00.000+11:00

You Are Corona

You don't drink for the love of beer. You drink to get drunk.
You prefer a very light, very smooth beer. A beer that's hardly a beer at all.
And while you make not like the taste of beer, you like the feeling of being drunk.
You drink early and often. Sometimes with friends. Sometimes alone. All the party needs is you!

What's Your Beer Personality?

I wish I could sleep

2006-03-21T00:49:00.000+11:00

on the height of the highway onramp we saw,
two dogs, dead in a field,
glowing on the oakland coliseum green seats wasteland,
dogs, dogs we thought were dead,
they rose up, rose up when whistled at, their rib cage inflating like men on the beach being photographed,
a guard dog, guard dog, for what? for what?
against tofers ellis pennyless athletics fanatics,
getting into games through a whole in the fence,
for the owner of the blue tarp tent,
pitched by a creek beneath an onramp,
in the privacy of the last three,
skin and bony trees, devoid of leaves,
and us undeceased, and our new cds,
dippin' on goodies, oakland

it's hard to stand the sight of two dogs dead under a sky so blue,
you have to stop the blood to your head,
to fit the breathe in front of you,

we secretly long to be some part of a car crash,
long to see our arms stripped of the tendons,
the nudity of swelling exposed vein,
webbing the back of your hand,
to be a red tendoned dog,
to be red tendoned dogs,
blood breathing by the side of the highway

I long to be dead,
center of a curious crowd,
to be touched,
sticky like nearly dried paint,
their soft silent stare nursing your face,
anticipating the slightest pinch eye-flinch of pain,
everyone blank in accident awe,
as the car crash fiberglass dust straight up settles on your raw muscle tissue

it's hard to stand the sight of two dogs dead under a sky so blue,
you have to stop the blood to your head,
to fit the breathe in front of you,

to be a red tendoned dog, to be red tendoned dogs, to be red tendoned dogs, to be red tendoned dogs,
to be dead center of a curious crowd
(Dead dogs two- cLOUDDEAD)

Knitting pattern boy...

2006-03-19T17:11:00.000+11:00

Need answers..

2006-03-17T17:54:00.000+11:00

Got a ride in a friend's car today. (big-ups to slesh, YOU ARE A DRIVER) I heard a song which I hadn't heard since I was an angst-ridden teenager with too much eyeliner. I subsequently went nuts on the car-bound Iriver trying to get it to play the song... to no avail...
It made me crazy-frustrated, and I'm guessing it didn't make driving less than stressful. (sorry Slesh)
I know that it's Mazza (or Marilyn Manson, as he's more commonly known)... and i know the opening lyrics are something like:
I've got a crush on a pretty pistol, should I tell her that I feel this way?
Father told us to be faithful
I've got a crush on a pretty pistol, should I tell her that I feel this way?
I've got love songs in my head, killing us away

Can anyone help me? Cast your minds back several years and see if anything surfaces. It's shit-frustrating having the first thirty seconds loop-spiralling round my meat computer.

soundtrack to this post: You fuckin' tell me...

casualty souvenirs

2006-03-17T11:25:00.000+11:00

This:

2006-03-16T21:41:00.000+11:00

Click the thing.

I am a tired, hungry scientist

2006-03-14T20:25:00.000+11:00

Recent, lengthy studies have caused me to come to the following conclusion:

Equation:
Ample beer + Little sleep + little food = Getting things done with ease.

Explanation:
During life you encounter nervousness and stress occasionally when getting things done.

Symptoms of stress:
Heartbeat fast and/or irregular, fluctuating body temperature, light-headedness, shaking, dizziness, and sweating.

Symtoms of Ample beer, Little sleep and little food:
Heartbeat fast and/or irregular, fluctuating body temperature, light-headedness, shaking, dizziness, sweating, mild halucinations, loss of equalibrium, mild loss of inhibition.

Prognosis*:
By synthesizing the symptoms of nervousness the subject is able to become accustomed to said symptoms, and futhermore, able to conduct themselves with confidence and ease.

Conclusion:
I only ever seem to feel good/ confident/ in control/ an adequate member of society when I'm doing horribly abusive things to my meat puppet***.
I guess you might consider that transcendence, or some kind of fraudian[sic] mastery of the ego.

And I spent the evening hanging in the casualty ward** because there is an undesirable element invading my home

*Is almost definately being used incorrectly, artistic license should be taken into account, as well as the author's fragile mental state.

** I was not the subject of the excursion.

*** means body, sory for confusion, I am currently confusion personified.

Soundtrack to this post: lingering doubts about whether this is an important scientific discovery, or an unconsciouse cry for help (allthough it's prbably neither, just a load of miss-spelled shit from the addled mind of a really tired, shaky hungry girl)

Good Weekend,

2006-03-13T11:09:00.000+11:00

(It was a.)
I am at the very fragile end of a good weekend (not the weekend Age liftout magazine, which I used to love when I was a little tacker, back when I listened to radio national and I still all of my baby teeth, I could take it or leave it now though). So the following is a mixture of slightly addled, sleep deprived, mostly reliable memories of mega radness and that, many pictures were taken....it's a shame there was no film in the camera.
I think this is going to be one of those, badly written posts that I'm going to cringe about later, but not delete for sentimental reasons.

I haven't in a while had so much beer or smiled so much. Or sung along with people who know the words. Thank-you for a good weekend, I'm going to love living with you guys.
Also, yesterday, at the beach, I got not even a tiny bit sunburned. I travelled in a car for hours and enjoyed it, I guess it's all down to the company you keep, you make it easier to deal with coming home and finding people sleeping in my loungeroom. I never felt so seedy and so mirth-filled over such a period of time. I haven't taken such terrible care of myself in a long time and I've never felt better.

Oh, and I've never been called a Liger before; best compliment ever.

A man who bears more than a passing resemblance to Jesus tuned my new guitar for me and I have a new Why? album headed my way in the not too distant future.
Makes me almost not even mind that people who don't live here are filling my house up with the smell of bacon, after filling it up with a pungeant, unholy cocktail of odours that could most accurately described as a mixture of ciggarettes, dirty bong, and feet.

And if you're up between two am and six am on a monday morning tune in to this. Highly reccommended. It was the best and the worst thing I did last night. but only because I woke up earlier than I would have like to.

Soundtrack to this post: I shall be released-Nina Simone

cLOUDDEAD

2006-03-11T13:38:00.000+11:00

Some of the reasons I like devo...

2006-03-10T10:31:00.000+11:00

bureaucracy sucks

2006-03-09T11:15:00.000+11:00

After "sleeping in" 'til seven-thirty this morning, that's half an hour after I usually have to leave; to catch a train to Ringworm* then another to Lillydale**. I have to get up at six o'clock to be in a church full of computers by nine.
So, after racing out of my house at a quarter to eight, having to wait twenty minutes for a train to Ringwood and half-a-freaking-hour for one to Lillydale, power-walking to the chapel and apologising (unnecessarily) for being late (apparently everyone was late today).

I just found out that as of the the twenty-first of February I didn't need to be here.
You know what? The people in charge here only just found out...and...only told me when there were questions raised over why my name was left of the sign in sheet.
Cocks.
So this is the last day (until I can use another PC) that I'll be able to make posts in colour, and spellcheck.
Better make the most of it.

*Ringwood
**I can't think of a clever psudonym

Soundtrack to this post: Apt A, pt. 2- cLOUDDEAD

more Little Golden Books...

2006-03-06T15:08:00.000+11:00

I bought myself;

Little Golden Books;
Home for a bunny
Animals on the farm
The friendly bunny
Baby dear,
a picnic bar,
a polyester jacket,
and a high e.
lookit' this freaky little alien:

He's so rock.

Worderful

2006-03-06T14:58:00.000+11:00

2006-03-05T17:23:00.000+11:00

ping!

2006-03-03T15:41:00.000+11:00

Due to the supreme effort of this dude:

P*K*I*B 4# will take place at Ruby's Lounge on the 15th March
apparently it's staff art attack night or something,
I know it's sounds dangerous and potentially painful, but give it a go...

and Ekky if you do not attend this time I will be forced to take "measures"...
don't make me figure out what that could mean.

切口は実験の結果を3 # 持ち上げる:

2006-03-02T16:09:00.000+11:00

一致のように繁栄のような金地勢を話すことのように立方体がそこの野生の印である雨であるようにA が猫汚れI を彼女再度話している聖者が行くように彼女をあるによってそこにあるとうもろこし畑のための音が愛しなさい女の子のように着色された女の子無駄にされた日のような聖者で、来る円形の暗闇のような呼吸しなさい回って町はWindows 彼女話しているを通した金であることを私が知っている海に歩いている私がささやく印をとどまるずっと私は私は直通の思考で愛することを青い振動成長が知っている王である

Cut-up experiment results 3#:

2006-03-02T15:27:00.001+11:00

Like agreeing

Like talkin' golden terrain
Like thrivin' love her are thru the along
There's a sound for the cornfield
Like in goes saint
A cat are talkin' stain
I her again
Like cubes are wild sign
There's a rain

Like girl breathe, in a saint
Like colored girl come the wasted day
Like round dark spinning I'd to stay
Whispering signs walkin' to sea
I know town
Windows be gold thru the her talkin' down

I've been a king
blue vibration growin'
know I'd love in the thoughts in the thru

{This one kind of worked itself out into rhyme}

cut-ups experiment results 2#:

2006-03-02T15:27:00.000+11:00

it it it and
Head alive
dirty mirror to again arise
playing star too long
It's a the of me - fast lane way too out
I thought up a -a -I -gone
It's - blink
Coming on and time
western
I'm silent
way and (?)
Now song
Like a singing through long
An eastern the out turns out stay
Into (?)
Comes a - me out to
comes new alive and west on
To the a western it silver to - been a man Here like on (?)
You've it's of same
Been back the on -
clearer the rain
Seems been way way eastern away on
A kind slow
It's been - star
Looking to eye
Pick have long
It's a-coasting
saw it - (?)
Ghost been to see a gone
been is to - I - through - too
comes mind
It star
It's to simple rhyme
The sight disappearer
gold It and a - turns to -
- the on starland
It's speaks and - turn it going in my way
Looking turns

Cut-ups experiment; result 1#:

2006-03-02T15:03:00.000+11:00

When the nowhere
Come together

I'm down it's see and your sight
Comin' cut through - friends of just fall
watch alright
I've seen vacuum sight
My seasons love stop out cut
tell me
can sideways out the before
I am airless - daytime sight
My you time...

alone
And burn
It seems that you cutting (?)
From nowhere - to the turns
it's in your together through
lies right at bright (?)
From eye
I can't see out
can't so heavy into spiral
turning through an all out fire
I 'me'
all door

When breathing of don't speak
mote inside all you see fires
my moving in and it's you
life shoots like dream
you've been here
-carpet
You're just in time
the child
I
this time

Put 'me' across
but feel you as of into stone
Picture of in
in from dreamland
I'm madness equation it's yr. face
is that crime it
All the it
When this sea in the door
I'm alright
I've seen friends tell time

Put you of the turn
And your moving through

I'm island-bound,
a stand to reason at words equation
it's just
can't rocket
All you on before
Dream the you of nowhere - to nowhere
Cut you circle me

{a prize to anyone who can guess what this was to begin with}

The Answer.

2006-02-27T13:06:00.000+11:00

The secret of my tattoo can be found here, I unveiled it at Duckdive's beer-barbeque-barn party. It's almost healed properly now.
I will post a better pic of it when I can persuade a digital-camera enabled friend to take a picture of it for me.

Gun street girl jumps on the bandwagon:

2006-02-23T13:15:00.000+11:00

There's been a spate of these lately,
I've been trapped in Lillydale all day, time and internet to spare, so after several false starts here's this thing I copied.

Mr Bevis thinks I look like:

it's kinda true, but it was about six years ago when I was going through this phase:

Where possible I have put more than one picture, think of these as amalgams...
If I know what you like like already, don't worry, this is how I picture you as bloggers.

I think bevis looks like:

Ekky:

Lesslinear:

Millwood:

Surlyboy:

Millwood and Surlyboy (you can decide which is which):

Idahorn:

daddy walrus:

(Ha!)

Angry as bastard:

I'd like to think I look like

but i probably look more like

Affegerechtigkeit:

Kranki:

Slesh:

I want these people to visit my blog, they look awesome

It is done:

2006-02-20T17:53:00.000+11:00

After two and a half hours of pain and staring at the ceiling my tattoo is finished...
and it's awesome.
I'm going to scan my arm so you can all appreciate it's mighty might of mighty awesomeness, but I have to wait until I no longer need to keep it covered in bepanthen cream. That will make the scanner sticky in a way that will probably result in the kind of scanning impairment it may not be able to recover from.
In the meantime though we should play a game called "Guess what gun street girl got tattooed to her"
[nice alliteration... I thought so too.]
and...
GO!!!!

Soundtrack to this post: some far off jazz

PLease note; all spelling mistakes are on porpois.

Fun Facts

2006-02-17T11:10:00.000+11:00

High fives and back touching go to Kranki who ~~I copied this from~~ had a link on his blog.

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Appopleptic bicycle!

1.Appopleptic bicycle can be seen from space.
2.California is the biggest exporter of appopleptic bicycle in the world!
3.Appopleptic bicycle has a memory span of three seconds!
4.If the Sun were the size of a beach ball then Jupiter would be the size of a golf ball and appopleptic bicycle would be as small as a pea!
5.Appopleptic bicycle, from the movie of the same name, had green blood.
6.Appopleptic bicycle will give a higher yield if milked when listening to music.
7.It takes more than 500 peanuts to make appopleptic bicycle.
8.Appopleptic bicycle kept at the window will keep vampires at bay.
9.Appopleptic bicycle can grow up to three feet in a 24 hour period.
10.Baby swans are called appopleptic bicycle!

Aslo:

Ten Top Trivia Tips about Little Golden Books!

1.In Vermont, the ratio of cows to Little Golden Books is 10:1.
2.About 100 people choke to death on Little Golden Books each year.
3.Dolphins sleep at night just below the surface of Little Golden Books, and frequently rise to the surface for air!
4.The word 'samba' means 'to rub Little Golden Books'.
5.If you lie on your back with your legs stretched it is impossible to sink in Little Golden Books.
6.99 percent of the pumpkins sold in the US end up as Little Golden Books!
7.The National Heart Foundation recommends eating Little Golden Books at least three times a week.
8.Little Golden Books kept at the window will keep vampires at bay!
9.Tradition allows women to propose to Little Golden Books only during leap years!
10.In Ancient Egypt, people wore glittery eyeshadow made from the crushed shells of Little Golden Books.

If you want to learn amazing facts do it here.
Soundtrack to this post: David Makalster-Colonel Claypool's Fearless Flying Frog Brigade

I like polyester.

2006-02-16T20:15:00.000+11:00

Polyester books is probably the only bookshop I've been to where I would like to own the majority it's stock.
I know Polyester gets raided every other month, or something like that... but it's getting serious, they want to shut it down.
Now, I know it's about censorship and stuff. I won't press you.
I'm cut about it because I love to buy things there, they have pretty much all my interests covered, and they are the only shop I've been into that plays Bill Hicks while you browse and usually has Juxtapoz magazines in stock.
I will be pissed off if they get shut down and another average, high-priced, second-hand boutique takes their place.
If you like you can sign the petition.

Highlight of the social calender:

2006-02-13T17:01:00.000+11:00

Come, or be exiled due to your lack of knowledge of happeningness, all the kids are doing it.

2006-02-13T16:50:00.000+11:00

Went to visit the tattoo guy today, to give him our designs to work on.
Mine is all go, I'm booked in to get it next monday.
Went to Dimmy's, (it's up the road from the tattooists) so much amazing cheap and wrong stuff, it was awesome, they have everything; from children's toys to PVC nurse's costumes.
Go there.
GO THERE NOW.

Soundtrack to this post: Head over Heels-Tears for Fears

empowerment

2006-02-12T13:20:00.000+11:00

Everything is completely stupid.
Once you realise that you can do something.
So what are you going to do?
Pro-found

I think I've come to a descision about my tattoo though, thanks for all your help.

oh and :

People are people
So why should it be
You and I should get along so awfully

So we’re different colours
And we’re different creeds
And different people
Have different needs
It’s obvious you hate me
Though I’ve done nothing wrong
I’ve never even met you
So what could I have done
I can’t understand
What makes a man
Hate another man
Help me understand

Now you’re punching
And you’re kicking
And you’re shouting at me
And I’m relying on your common decency
So far it hasn’t surfaced
But I’m sure it exists
It just takes a while to travel
From your head to your fist

People are people
So why should it be
You and I should get along so awfully

-D.M.

Soundtrack to this post: What's going on - A perfect cirlcle

I'm getting another tattoo on monday...

2006-02-11T14:24:00.000+11:00

I'm thinking of going with something like this:

or this:

or this:

but I still haven't decided...
any suggestions/nominations for my next tat?

2006-02-11T10:46:00.000+11:00

dose one: out for the view..
i can gather myself once as a very fairly small human,
mouth made out of glass. i am my habitat,
antidote and what ripped his face off wasn't even a pain killer,
faceless and a boyish numb uncomfortable, he can't sit.
artificial day skeleton keeps him up all night (up all night),
puts himself away. he...
a wise man once said, "fuck 'em if they can't take a joke."
there is a me, in every kindergarten, and there is a me,
bigger than a raccoon, smaller than a building, smaller still, smaller still,
afloat with music on..
better feeling, "aw, who you tellin'!"

Blogger awards I'd like to see:

2006-02-09T16:04:00.000+11:00

Best Satirical bog persona
Most creative pretend blog persona
Most abhorrent pretend blog persona
Most convincing pretend blog persona
Most entertaining pretend blog persona
Most pollitically incorrect pretend blog persona

(That's all I have for now, but i have some candidates in mind)
(Also, please not the poetic cascading slant effect of the catagories)

I'm feeling sorry for myself.

2006-02-09T11:19:00.000+11:00

I'm suffering from "Skin failure", it's messier than you think. Also, the combination of late nights and early mornings is wreaking havoc with my meat-computer, I'm pretty sure it's squishier than usual too. The liquid parts of me are dryer, and the dry parts are wetter, except my humour, which, though more blunt than usual, having lost it's crispy sharpness, is dryer than ever...
I'm surrounded by frigging idiots, and these aren't your day-to-day, run-of-the-mill brand of regular frigging idiots, these are christians[sic] and people from Lillydale, and Croydon.
Leave me a comment?
Email me photo's of David Haslehoff and Chuck Norris in flagrante with Mr T.?
Please do something to alleviate my anxiety...
Soundtrack to this post: Idiots reading quizzes to each other to determine what celebrity and ice-cream flavour they are

prostrate yourself upon the shrine of Barbara Kruger

2006-02-08T11:48:00.000+11:00

Soundtrack to this post: Southern Man-Roy Orbison

Tagged again.

2006-02-08T10:50:00.000+11:00

It seems Mr. Bevis has seen fit to tag me once again, this one has actual set questions though, so it was much easier, and is pretty much guaranteed against tag-backs.
Here goes...

1. First blog you ever read?

A Falling Out With The In Crowd

2. What inspired you to start your own?

After reading the aforementioned blog, I must admit that the chances for spewing my vitriol and petty perturbation was a definite draw. I also like the fact that unlike a diary, people can come and read your entries and tell you that they are stupid. I was never good at keeping a diary befor Das Blog, because I always lost interest. Also, I thought it might improve my spelling and grammar...boy was I wrong...

3.The best and worst about blogging?

The best thing is the venting, I get to say all sorts of things that people would ignore if I said them during conversation, and I don't feel as plagued by things after I leave them on Das Blog... The worst thing is that since I have convinced friends of mine to join Das Blog Gemeinschaft (or Blog Community) I have not been able to include them as much in my posts, just because I take into account far to much, the effect reading about themselves would have

4. Who was the first person to comment on your blog? Troll your archives and find out.

After a trip back to the humble beginnings of Das Blog you would learn that it was in fact Gregory Surlyboy.

5. What has been your most popular blog entry?

I suppose this is in reference to the amount of comments in response to said entry...I'll be right back.
Eleven minutes later...
None of my posts have actually exceeded 21 comments, (I'm such a novice). My most popular post is a (fairly) recent one Where I posted in french about having taken acid, other bloggers posted comments (also in french). It was like a dream for me, I love translations, especially when they are a bit off.

6. If I re-named my blog I would call it...

Something bitter, and deadpan involving a really lame pun.

7. If my blog had a theme song it would be ...
Kill yr Idols-Sonic Youth/ kommienezuspadt-Tom waits/ Hush-Tool/ Don't get too close( 2 my fantasy)-Ween/ Mousy toy-Xiu xiu/ Constantinople-The Residents/ or this/ or Get used to it-Roger Voudouris... I don't fuckin' know...there's too many, for a while there it was Paris,Texas-Ry Cooder

8. If my blog was a room it would look like...

A philosophy student's bedroom, only less minimisist, more pretentious, messier, and with friends popping in to visit unnexpectedly from time to time.

9. Five bloggers I would like to have over for dinner.

IdaHorn, Affegerechtigkeit, Daddy Walrus, Lesslinear, Ekstasis, and The Inner Beard

10. Two bloggers you would like to set up on a blind date.

Is that with each other?
Idahorn and Daddy Walrus, but only if they didn't know each other already.

11. Somebody I wish had a blog?

My friend Isobel who I haven't been able to contact for years. She is one of the coolest people I have ever met, we always had the same taste in music independant of each other, and she was aways so much fun. I miss her.

12. If you were only allowed to read one blog ever again, which blog would it be?

Reading just one blog would be more frustrating than not being able to read any, so I can't answer that.

13. Is there a fellow blogger you would like to snog / shag / do rude things to? Feel free to name names if you're game.

Each and every one of you.

14. Discover a blog. Link to a blog that you have recently found, or a blog you have been reading for a while and haven't blogrolled.

This is a great one.

15.Tag five bloggers to complete this meme.

1.Idahorn
2.Daddy Walrus
3.Ellysium Earth
4.Millwood
5.Ekstasis

Hungry freaks, daddy

2006-02-07T11:36:00.000+11:00

Mr. America, walk on by your schools that do not teach
Mr. America, walk on by the minds that won't be reached
Mr. America try to hide the emptiness that's you inside
But once you find that the way you lied
And all the corny tricks you tried
Will not forestall the rising tide of HUNGRY FREAKS DADDY!

They won't go on four no more
Great mid-western hardware store
Philosophy that turns away
From those who aren't afraid to say what's on their minds
The left behinds of the great society

HUNGRY FREAKS, DADDY!

Mr. America, walk on by your supermarket dream
Mr. America, walk on by the liquor store supreme
Mr. America try to hide the product of your savage pride
The useful minds that it denied
The day you shrugged and stepped aside
You saw their clothes, and then you cried,
"Those HUNGRY FREAKS, DADDY!"

They won't go on four no more
Great mid-western hardware store
Philosophy that turns away
From those who aren't afraid to say what's on their minds
The left behinds of the great society

He looks familiar somehow...

My friend told me...

2006-02-06T17:39:00.001+11:00

...that the woman in the Brand Power℠ (helping you buy better) ads lives at the supermarket and if they don't put her on tv she follows the people in the supermarket around and tries to explain to them about the absorbency of paper towels and the like...
But have you seen the new one, about the low GI Wonderwhite bread?
My god.
There is a little pale kid who justs keeps nodding, and nodding, and being far too enthusiastic (in my opinion) about the bread...
I think what they are not telling us is that the bread is made mostly from crack. Or sugar, which is like crack to the ADHD kid they decided to use for promo...
I find the whole thing terrribly unsettling.

All along the Watchtower

2006-02-04T10:34:00.001+11:00

I got a shirt yesterday, for two dollars, it's one of the ugliest things I've ever seen, and I knew I would reget it if I didn't buy it.

The problem is; I can't just wear it as is, it needs a caption, or something...

I'm having trouble thinking of what to put...SO...
I welcome any and all suggestions, the winner will go on the shirt...
(It does not need to be McDonald's related, that's too easy.)
The old lady in the shop was rude to me after I pointed out that the two tiny dolls I was purchasing were a dollar each, and not forty cents, like I'd spat on her rather than tried to make sure I didn't get an unnecessary discount. Last time I try to do the right thing, it didn't help that I was lit, but...fuck.

Also, a couple of weeks back I was nice to some Jevoha's Whitlesses, they were really old, so I didn't have the heart to try and get themm to question what they were doing, so I was polite (ie; nodding a lot, and saying "mmm hhhmmm", they respond well to that), and they gave me some Awake! magines, and a copy of Watchtower, I was pretty pleased about this, because I thought they would be a great resource for collage. My housemate borrowed them to I haven't cut them up yet, but I'm still sure it's a good idea, there is an article on how mold is the enemy or something and a whole lot of stuff about the promised land....
Well, today they were back and asked me what I thought of the magazines, I explained that I'd lent them to someone so I hadn't had a chance to read them yet, they seemed satisfied with that and they gave me two more, I'm a little concerned, that they said they'd be back in a month to see what I thought...I have to give them credit though as I was wearing a face mask the entire time whick looked positively evil...
I'm not sure what to do now, I have no qualms about being mean to religious propagandaists (if that's even a word), but I have a really hard time even being curt to old people.

Soundtrack to this post: ripped Bad Boy Bubby soundtrack

I suspect that this is what the people in Lilydale are taking:

2006-02-03T11:26:00.000+11:00

(courtesy of Vice Magazine)

2006-02-03T09:10:00.000+11:00

It was so difficult for me to get up this morning, my bed was like a womb. Four hours sleep is not nearly enough sleep, even when I have the memory of an awesome surprise rock show to carry me through the day. Even my stash of leftover carbonara, bananas and "special" biscuit lunch, is like some distant dreamy mirage, my sleazy silver aviators are keeping my eyes from watering as I'm sucked into the 'puter's excessively bright screen, these christians[sic] don't seem to know too much about technology or comfort, which I can't say is a surprise, those two things are some of the most foreign to those who subscribe to the christian[sic] faith...
Where was I?
Oh.
It may surprise you to know that I went to see the Mars Volta last night. But not as much as it surprised me. It was a very last minute kind of situation involving parties not as enthused about going as they thought they were when tickets were purchased...
After the initial "feeling bad that I was going when I knew people who wanted to go more" guilt had worn off and I realised my only choices pertained to whether or not I went and whether or not I enjoyed myself.
I went, and I enjoyed myself.
Finding a parking space was an adventure, waiting in long long line of Indie-tacular young people was another adventure*. Having four people in the space of a minute congratulate me for having Bill Hicks on my shirt while I was standing in a moderately well-lit area was an experience, also.
They were awesome, tiny Cedric's cavorting about served as a reminder of my justifiable predilection for small men with large hair who can sing high. The last thing is, at the back of the stage they had A DREAM MACHINE!!! If you know me at all you may know that I've been trying for some time to build one, but I need a 78 rpm record player to get it to work good...
I was waiting for the whole show for them to turn it on, (it ha a light inside that flickers through holes in the spinning outside)and just when I'd fogotten all about it: last song, wall of high-frequency- guitar-and-jazz-wind-instrument-noise, mega fuckin' strobes effect, I shut my eyes(this is how it works:) and let the flickering convince my brain to form patterns and colours, I didn't get too far onto it because they brought the stage lights up and you couldn't really see it anymore, but then the band went off, amazing finale.

There is a really annoying Canadian** woman asking the most banale questions about microsoft Word every thirty seconds or so, and not even to me, it's just annoying 'cause I can hear her.

*Ida, Dw; Never was it harder to supress the urge to serenade tight-panted boys with the fantastically accurate opus, and tribute to my genius that is "Emo boy".

**As a rule I usually quite like Canadians (thats not diplomacy Ida, that's the truth), I wouldn't have mentioned that she was a Canadian-bacon-burger, except that she has a very thick, very loud accent, she even talks to herself and grunts loudly, WITH AN ACCENT.

And a mullet you would have to see to beleive!

Soundtrack to this post: Comunal computer uploading cLOUDDEAD at my bidding, mwahahahahahahahaahaahaaa...ah...

2006-02-02T14:01:00.000+11:00

Maybe...
If I try really hard, and I practice and practice...
I'll be as good as Foo Swee Chin.

Then again, maybe not.
*sigh*

うさぎさん

2006-02-02T12:51:00.000+11:00

This is what I need.^^^^^^^
I'm sensing some indignation from around me as the Bobby Conn/ Perfect Circle/ Animal Collective/ Beck/ Manitoba/ Coheed/ Nick Drake/ Pulp/ Akron/Family/ Ween/ Waits/ etc that I've painstakingly uploaded... comes spilling out of the chapel 'puter.
I would turn it off, but I need it...

Some words(finally), no pictures(almost)

2006-01-31T11:09:00.000+11:00

I've been putting off this post 'cause it's going to be epic, size-wise.
I've been at the Island of Phillip, but I'd like to call it "Skull Island" because that sounds much cooler.
I set out to Skull Island on Wednesday night after a run-in with my ex-boyfriend's mum and sister, who I had not seen in a very long time. They have not changed at all, even though his sister Casey is eighteen or nineteen now, but I suppose that's what happens when you live in a suburban terra-dome, free from the world's influences (with the exception of Video Hits). Christine, the matriarch, told me she didn't recognise me because I was so thin, and invited me to come over to their house, because Bonnie (their insane small fluffy white dog) misses me, apparently...
Casey also told me that Adam is FAT now, Christine concurred with "Yeah you'd actually be surprised." It turns turns out that he's just been playing video games and eating crap food, my, how times have changed (everywhere except the Porter house). So I declined Christine's kind, though bizzarre offer of a visit on the premise of my visit to Skull Island, but they gave me a lift home, so that was good.
Aimee' came and took me to the Island, all was going smoothly until the last, fifteen minute strech of the journey. Fifteen minutes became half an hour because Loy, Aimee's little car started to cough and splutter and wouldn't get past sixty k's.
Once we got there, there was some business about getting the car to wonthaggi to be seen to. I was introduced to Aimee's brother's friend's who were already there; there was aboy called Jesse who's reputation preceeded him, I was told by Aimee's mother that he smells horribly bad, I think the sea air must've cleared that up, because I didn't notice, but the other friend kept asking if he knew me from somewhere, I assured him that it was probably just a local thing as we are both from a similar area, but it turns out, he was breifly the boyfriend of the aforementioned Casey Porter, they dated for a week when I was still with Adam, so I'd heard a lot about him, but I'm not sure how close they must have gotten, because I don't recall her mentioning that he has WEBBED FEET, yeah, I saw my first mutant foot; second two toes stuck together, no seperation, eerie.
It turns out that the kids* these days are into TISM, so I got to relive my teenage-lyrics repository whilst driving around in their cars.
There was a speedy getaway after half of us managed to break into a crappy wooden maze after we found out it would be fifteen bucks a head, we were busted by Maze-security and ran away then drove... 'til we were somewhere els.
I almost drowned at the beach two days in a row, the waves there are insane; the water goes from being waist height, where you're standing to being above your head as you fight for your life and forget to hold onto your sunglasses, on the first day I lost my favorite pair of glasses, on the second day I lost the glasses that pseudo-smelly Jesse lent me, but a little boy found them and gave them back to me.
There was a bit of drinking, a power outage, lots of playing on the beach and a fair bit of exploring, particularly on the spooky airstrip adjacent to their holiday house. Think bunnies everywhere, apocalyptic sky, no sign of human life if you looked in the right direction and bones and carcasses everywhere I'm now the proud owner of a rabbit skull, some leg bones, ribs, and pieces of vertebrae. In fact because of this I took Aimee's place as the person who got teased for asosiation with animal remains, earlier on Aimee had examined a seal carcass with a stick, there was constant, occasionally tiresome references to this, throughout.
It was a nice holiday, but as soon as I got back I started noticing how stressfull everything is when you're not a minute's walk from a spooky dead-thing infested beach, and airstrip.

Yesterday I got some replacement glasses, my awesome ones that I lost will probably never be topped, sunglasses have a habit of not suiting my face, so I just bought the dodgiest, sleaziest, pair I could find; reflective silver aviators, hey at least I know I look like a tool, and I won't have to wonder about it.
We went to get lunch, and while we were discussing where to go we spotted this place:

They boasted over forty varieties of pie, it sounded too good to pass up, so we went. What they failed to mention was that of the forty FLAVOURS of pie twelve were beef variants, twenty-five were unnavailable just then, because they hadn't made them, fifteen were not actually even pies, but kieches and the like, and they were all either barely filled pastry cases or just plain disgusting. My "steak and mushroom pie" had no mushroom, and the "raspberry pie" (that I eventually settled on after being told by the cock-eyed serving-crone that my first four choices were unavailable) was a mess of mushy-flavourless-paste-filling and NOT A PIE, but a crap tart with a lid. No amount of tomato sauce (on the former) or cream (on the latter) could disguise the outright badness of craft and flavour. That place is just a really bad bakery, gussied up with horse accoutremonts, stuffed chickens, bad faux Australiana and signs on the lackluster toilet's doors that specify; "Blokes" and "Sheilas". So unless you want to make your life experiences seem quality by comparison I don't reccomend The Pie Shed. It's a good idea, but very badly executed.

*Young-adults

Soundtrack to this post: See your face and know-The Incredible String Band, Strichnine/Peace love and understanding-the Flaming Lips, Precipitation-Les Claypool, All Shook up-Ry Cooder, Big Jilm-Ween, 04/24/05-Fanto^mas.