After such a long absense from the blogging world (the blorld? The wogging? The bworld? I don't know), the the prodigal son has returned! Just like in the famous parable told by JESUS HIMSELF, one son (of the farmer or of the D.I.D a Mess blog) selfishly left the other son (or sons) to do all of the work while he persued other dreams. The only differences between Lieutenant Renji's surprise comeback to the D.I.D a Mess rant space and the Bible story are that nobody seems to care that I am returning; there will be no feast starring the 'best pig', I did not leave to live in the fast lane and drink myself stupid until I eventually ended up living in a pig sty eating from their troughs; I just got lazy and used my energy to study, have sex, and watch television (sometimes all at the same time), and finally, that I did not take my share of the family inheritence with me when I left. Where is my money Damacus? I ask this of Damacus because I see him as the father of this blog, although I could go behing his back and ask the more caring figure in the family who is, of course, the mother of the blog; Crucible Tongs. C Tongs, where is my money? Since I did not get a feast in my honour upon my return to the farm (or blog), I think that I should at least be entitled to my inheritence for much squandering (although said squandering was technically supposed to happen during my period of absense in which I was supposedly mindlessly wandering and buying myself alcohol and multiple hookers). Actually this situation is only vaguely similar to that of the bible story and should really not have been used as an example at all.
So that introduction went on for far too long but I enjoyed writing it too much to cut it down at all. It also had nothing to do with what I am writing about (which I still have not decided yet). Let's just pretend that it never happen and move on with our lives. ONWARD!
Tonight I went out with my mum, my sister, and my sister's boyfriend David for dinner. It wasn't anything special, we just went down to the Blacky because mum had just come back from visiting nonna in hospital after a major operation and didn't want to cook. David wasn't coming originally but mum told Roxy that she should call him and invite him. I love David and he is very sweet, but I have to admit that I was a bit sad that she did not also suggest an invitation for my 'friend' Shady.
For those of you who don't know, I also write in another blog which is not as good as this one (except for the posts by Shady Lewis), with one of my exboyfriends. He is a super amazing boy who I have so much in common with its not even funny. It's a long story, but to get to the point all you need to know is that we broke up halfway through year 12. After that I had a boyfriend for 7 or 8 months and at the moment we have a thing. I don't like the phrase "we have a thing" because it sounds so... I can't think of the word for it but I just don't like it. Basically, he is an almost boyfriend but I can do what I want when I'm not with him, and so can he. Now, his parents seem to be under the impression that I am his girlfriend which I don't mind honestly, and it is understandable since I stay there at least once a week, sometimes more if I am at my dad's appartment for the week (it's much closer to his house). On the other hand, my mother was CERTAIN that he was gay and just a good friend of mine. Once when he came over, he and my mother had a lengthy discussion about how much he loved the 60's furniture; you can see where this theory came from. It's not just my mum either, apparently many people get the 'gay vibe' when they first meet him, a sense that I didn't get when we met.
Ok, Shady's sexual preference (STRAIGHT) is not the point here, the point is that I was quite happy with this whole situation of my mother not knowing that I was going to his place to engage in many sexual activities until tonight when she told Roxy to invite David out with us. Listening to my sister try and convey to David that we weren't going anywhere special ("just wear a tshirt... no she is just wearing her shit kmart runners... no don't wear a singlet") I thought about how I wanted her to want me to call Shady to see if he wanted to come, but I didn't say anything. When we got there, my sister and her boyfriend went to get a drink, and I asked my mum if she liked David as much as she liked Mysterious Follower. WOW shock horror guys, Mysterious Follower and I went out for almost a year between year 10 and year 11 and my mother still wants me to marry him. "He's such a nice boy, even though he is a bit shy. He is really lovely you should marry him." Anyway, she said that she loves David just as much. I then asked her what she thought of Shady. Apparently she thinks he is a really nice and the best dresser our of all of my friends. Then she asked me if he was my boyfriend; I didn't really know what to say. I don't see my mother approving of an 'open relationship' I guess you would call it, although I am not a huge fan of the term. She warned me that sleeping around is bad (thanks mum, how slutty do you think I am?). I told her that he was sort of my boyfriend, but not really; which left her confused so I then changed the subject.
I am now going to avoid this topic with my mum until I can think of a better way to word the details of the situation; or until I am forced to tell her that Shady and I want to use the beach house for a bit in the summer holidays. It's safe to say that mum no longer thinks that Shady is gay, but now she thinks I am sleeping with 400 boys including Shady Lewis.
OK well I know for a act that Shady will read this, and I was hoping that he would be kind of happy that I finally sort of half mentioned this to my mother like he wanted, but I am speaking to him now and he, as usual, said something about my mum. Before I go Shady Lewis, I just think I should mention that telling me about how annoying my mum is, although it may be true, is not a good choice for you; I love it when my boyfriends don't like my mum... -_- It's not her fault that she doesn't know what's going on; it's because I don't tell her. Give the woman a fucking break. Also, many people think you are gay; it's not just her.
I don't want to finish this post on a note of annoyance so I just have to say that aside from the hating my mother part, Shady is near perfect and I better eventually have a chat to my mum about him so she doesn't keep asking me if all of my male friends are my boyfriend (especially when Shady is at my house when she asks). Ok, to be fair to Shady, my mum is a massive bitch and I want to punch her in the face 99% of the time, but really Shady, it's MY job to say that. Thanks for reading.
-Renji
Sunday, October 10, 2010
Saturday, October 9, 2010
Putting Out Fire With Gasoline
Hey lovable scamps, Damacus here, it's been so long. I trust you're well. Minus the probable vitamin D deficiency and usual underexercised frailty I'm excellent, because I'm now officially On Leave Of Absence from university. I like saying On Leave Of Absence because it sounds so much more dramatic and impressive than it is, like I've finally taken a holiday after decades of High Court judging or have been mysteriously disappeared by the KGB. Underwhelmingly it just means that I'm not going to uni until I resume next year, either in the first or second semester, because I decided I needed a break. I feel like I've actually made a semi-important decision, which is pretty unusual for me, and I'm all ready to walk to Broome or become a Pokemon Master or something. Well not now, now my eyelids feel all saggy and melting like Rupert Murdoch's face. It's rather morningy and someone's awake considerately turning on the kettle, so I should probably make this brief.
By now I assume you're all Freaking Out At Our New Look. I decided that this humble abode was in need of a little change, as I was starting to get tired of the unfathomable ghost seagulls in the background, my own awful banner and the fact that MF spelled "tossed" as "tosed" on that little side description. Now we have an unfathomable city-bank-thing in the background, an exciting tan & black colour scheme and a supremely unfunny new description. But AT LEAST now we have a font with serifs, because we're not fucking philistines people. Kudos to Van Gough for the banner, ruining his colourscheme on PS made me feel like the hardcore #thuglife vandal anarchist that I am. Take that, establishment. I also decided to add the splendid countenances of our highest post-count bloggers. Unsure of what to put for Anna Hyde and remembering her catladyness, I chose one the amazing paintings of Louis Wain, the crazy cat painter. He was an English artist who lived from 1860-1939 who was manically obsessed with painting kittehs for his entire life. You can see the paintings getting increasingly trippy as his mental state gradually deteriorated. They manage to be really kitsch and sinister at the same time, like old episodes of The Collectors. Here's a collection:
...I assume shortly after this Wain sacrificed himself to his feline gods.
Well I'm off. Dream of cats forever more.
By now I assume you're all Freaking Out At Our New Look. I decided that this humble abode was in need of a little change, as I was starting to get tired of the unfathomable ghost seagulls in the background, my own awful banner and the fact that MF spelled "tossed" as "tosed" on that little side description. Now we have an unfathomable city-bank-thing in the background, an exciting tan & black colour scheme and a supremely unfunny new description. But AT LEAST now we have a font with serifs, because we're not fucking philistines people. Kudos to Van Gough for the banner, ruining his colourscheme on PS made me feel like the hardcore #thuglife vandal anarchist that I am. Take that, establishment. I also decided to add the splendid countenances of our highest post-count bloggers. Unsure of what to put for Anna Hyde and remembering her catladyness, I chose one the amazing paintings of Louis Wain, the crazy cat painter. He was an English artist who lived from 1860-1939 who was manically obsessed with painting kittehs for his entire life. You can see the paintings getting increasingly trippy as his mental state gradually deteriorated. They manage to be really kitsch and sinister at the same time, like old episodes of The Collectors. Here's a collection:
...I assume shortly after this Wain sacrificed himself to his feline gods.
Well I'm off. Dream of cats forever more.
Sunday, October 3, 2010
All Natural
Alo, alo adoring blog suckling wankers, because unrestrained animosity towards a nonexistent readership is perfectly cool... but not a good sign.
Ah, who am I kidding, I check this place on the hour so I think I'm the closest thing to a consistent follower we have... Well, noone's posted for a bit, I'm bored and I have other commitments I should see to, that's all the ingredients for a blog post I need.
Weeeeeeell, anybody whose had to tolerate drunken conversation with me knows I have a twisted, invasive obsession with people's random little stories about pretty much anything. Everyone's got stories to tell, and their often some of the best kind of inspiration as well... also not technically plagiarism, so that's a plus.
So, Crucible Tongs, keepin' it real with random boring things that have happened... the test at the end is nothing so feel free to zone out, scroll and deal with your weedy, stuttering, first world conscience later.
Alright, one thing I always remember that was pretty awesome was this one time as a kid when there was a fire in the Chinese restaurant under my dad's shady, no frills, strip mall office. It was at about eight o'clock one night and I think I was about seven or eight. The fire was out when we got there, it was nothing big, but I think it was actually in the ventilation that went through the office. So there's no real visible damage or anything major, it's not like I'm walking through the charcoal remains of the Golden Boat or whatever. I can remember we had to wait in the restaurant for insurance people or something, and the power had been shut off. The restaurant's owner was there, he was a middle aged guy who always wore this suit that reminded me of a butler, also the posture, he had butler posture if I ever saw it... and I probably won't ever again. He was holding a candle and standing talking to some staff. There were a few other candles lit, so I went off exploring the restaurant. I'll say it straight out, a Chinese restaurant by candlelight in the middle of the night is amazing. It's also really creepy turning around corners and being face to face with a dragon statue that's bigger than you are. Then walking by the tanks with live crabs and lobsters and stuff. The tanks were impossible to see into unless you got your face in really close and drew the emergency candle up close. I can remember looking down into one tank full of crabs and seeing my reflection encapsulating this shuffling mass of grey shells. The crabs would disturb the water's surface, then the candlelight would bounce around and distort my reflection. I could move the candle up to see a bizarre outline of my face, then below my face to shadow my features, all the while as the mess of legs and claws cast theirs in all directions under my face. Then as I drew away the candlelight spread out around the dining area, with upturned chairs on tables, painting a shamble of lines on the walls.
There was one time when I was at one of those hedge mazes somewhere. It was one of those things where you're still young enough to get dragged around to these things by your parents but old enough to be really put off by the fact that you don't actually know any of the other people there. It was late afternoon, it was one of those clear sunny days and the sky was just starting to go orange. If I ever do get seriously involved in artistic expression, I'm staying away from hedge trimming... it doesn't exactly lend itself to much in the way of presentation. I was walking a maze with the intense boredom that comes with being ten and fully aware that these hedge mazes are pretty much all identical. I'd given up on getting to the middle, not out of difficulty, I just remember being really in the zone that day, like my sense of direction was impeccable. I could've circled around and crept up on an axe wielding Jack Nicholson with ease. But when you're ten you assume you're the amazing one, not that they don't really make these things too impossible because no regular tourist would want to spend hours hopelessly lost. I was just doing laps to avoid somebody, probably parents or siblings or something, but then I heard this crying. It was one of those real little kid cries, the ones that are closer to screaming. I can never tell with those, it's like they could be really scared or just needing to be noticed. The kid came running around the corner, he was younger than me, probably five or so, but he just ran past, tears streaming, his crying more of a call to be found than frustration with his directionlessness. I walked past this kid more than once, he was just running in circles. He didn't look like he was even trying, just waiting for something else to bail him out. Then I got worried. I'd walked around too much, when you're not heading in a direction it's hard to work out where you came from. I started to run as well. My heart was pounding, I couldn't see this kid but I could hear him, I ran faster. Every dead end would stop the momentum. My heart would stop and I'd get scared, it was like a prison, one that just wouldn't let you out, no matter how hard you tried. I don't think the other kid was still screaming, I was in too much of a panic to notice. I remembered hearing a whistle blow, then this guy with a map and sunglasses came running around the corner... looking way too official for this. He came right up to me and told me I'd be okay. He looked at his map for a bit and then started to lead me out. I know he thought I was the one crying out and I really hated that.
Alright, that's all I can remember right now... but these are some of my random stories. If you read it and can think of anything at all, sound it off in the comments.
TONGS AWAY
Ah, who am I kidding, I check this place on the hour so I think I'm the closest thing to a consistent follower we have... Well, noone's posted for a bit, I'm bored and I have other commitments I should see to, that's all the ingredients for a blog post I need.
Weeeeeeell, anybody whose had to tolerate drunken conversation with me knows I have a twisted, invasive obsession with people's random little stories about pretty much anything. Everyone's got stories to tell, and their often some of the best kind of inspiration as well... also not technically plagiarism, so that's a plus.
So, Crucible Tongs, keepin' it real with random boring things that have happened... the test at the end is nothing so feel free to zone out, scroll and deal with your weedy, stuttering, first world conscience later.
Alright, one thing I always remember that was pretty awesome was this one time as a kid when there was a fire in the Chinese restaurant under my dad's shady, no frills, strip mall office. It was at about eight o'clock one night and I think I was about seven or eight. The fire was out when we got there, it was nothing big, but I think it was actually in the ventilation that went through the office. So there's no real visible damage or anything major, it's not like I'm walking through the charcoal remains of the Golden Boat or whatever. I can remember we had to wait in the restaurant for insurance people or something, and the power had been shut off. The restaurant's owner was there, he was a middle aged guy who always wore this suit that reminded me of a butler, also the posture, he had butler posture if I ever saw it... and I probably won't ever again. He was holding a candle and standing talking to some staff. There were a few other candles lit, so I went off exploring the restaurant. I'll say it straight out, a Chinese restaurant by candlelight in the middle of the night is amazing. It's also really creepy turning around corners and being face to face with a dragon statue that's bigger than you are. Then walking by the tanks with live crabs and lobsters and stuff. The tanks were impossible to see into unless you got your face in really close and drew the emergency candle up close. I can remember looking down into one tank full of crabs and seeing my reflection encapsulating this shuffling mass of grey shells. The crabs would disturb the water's surface, then the candlelight would bounce around and distort my reflection. I could move the candle up to see a bizarre outline of my face, then below my face to shadow my features, all the while as the mess of legs and claws cast theirs in all directions under my face. Then as I drew away the candlelight spread out around the dining area, with upturned chairs on tables, painting a shamble of lines on the walls.
There was one time when I was at one of those hedge mazes somewhere. It was one of those things where you're still young enough to get dragged around to these things by your parents but old enough to be really put off by the fact that you don't actually know any of the other people there. It was late afternoon, it was one of those clear sunny days and the sky was just starting to go orange. If I ever do get seriously involved in artistic expression, I'm staying away from hedge trimming... it doesn't exactly lend itself to much in the way of presentation. I was walking a maze with the intense boredom that comes with being ten and fully aware that these hedge mazes are pretty much all identical. I'd given up on getting to the middle, not out of difficulty, I just remember being really in the zone that day, like my sense of direction was impeccable. I could've circled around and crept up on an axe wielding Jack Nicholson with ease. But when you're ten you assume you're the amazing one, not that they don't really make these things too impossible because no regular tourist would want to spend hours hopelessly lost. I was just doing laps to avoid somebody, probably parents or siblings or something, but then I heard this crying. It was one of those real little kid cries, the ones that are closer to screaming. I can never tell with those, it's like they could be really scared or just needing to be noticed. The kid came running around the corner, he was younger than me, probably five or so, but he just ran past, tears streaming, his crying more of a call to be found than frustration with his directionlessness. I walked past this kid more than once, he was just running in circles. He didn't look like he was even trying, just waiting for something else to bail him out. Then I got worried. I'd walked around too much, when you're not heading in a direction it's hard to work out where you came from. I started to run as well. My heart was pounding, I couldn't see this kid but I could hear him, I ran faster. Every dead end would stop the momentum. My heart would stop and I'd get scared, it was like a prison, one that just wouldn't let you out, no matter how hard you tried. I don't think the other kid was still screaming, I was in too much of a panic to notice. I remembered hearing a whistle blow, then this guy with a map and sunglasses came running around the corner... looking way too official for this. He came right up to me and told me I'd be okay. He looked at his map for a bit and then started to lead me out. I know he thought I was the one crying out and I really hated that.
Alright, that's all I can remember right now... but these are some of my random stories. If you read it and can think of anything at all, sound it off in the comments.
TONGS AWAY
Monday, September 20, 2010
i am still here
I know it has been months but my life has become busy beyond control and well I just couldn’t be bothered. It’s not that I hate you guys I am just not particularly fond of you... Notice my ability to warm to my audience.
So yes back to the being busy I think it’s fairly self explanatory uni, work, sport, and drinking these are serious time commitments and don’t like to be crossed together. The other night I was coaching my team at whom just so happened to be playing at my uni on a Friday night. So I took this opportunity to force myself into a bit of an extra study session rather than going home between uni and coaching. I realise being at uni late on a Friday night is not exactly what the cool kids do but I convinced myself it wouldn’t be that bad.
After my last lecture I set myself up on a desk in the library feeling pretty chill confident in achievement and made a start on some maths. I am not going to lie I was in general fairly lost with what was going on with the numbers on my page but I pressed on and so the night began. Well I say that fairly liberally because I’d say I got about 20 mins in before I decided i was too hungry and went to get food. I convinced myself I would just go back after a quick snack and continue and this is where the story reaches its climax... I returned to a closed library...
Now if you have even been to uni on a Friday night I am sure you would understand but for everyone else (the general population minus me) there isn’t exactly a lot to do. I had hit a limbo point; spend 2 hours driving home in peak hour traffic or two hours killing time on my own in a quite dark mass of towering buildings. For the purposes of saving fuel I decided to press on and search for something, anything and discovered nothing.
After an embarrassing circling walk I decided to sit in the car and read my notes fearful of going to the sporting ground too early and being singled out as the strange guy watching junior sport with not affiliation to either team. Sitting in the car had its own risks because cars as I discovered are always parked near other cars. Other cars always have owners and oh how owners have some judging eyes. Apparently there is no reasonable excuse for just sitting in your car trying to read from the dim light of the street lamp.
So after being judged so severely in just one short evening I was fairly shaken but there was no way I was baking down on my brilliant idea to stay and study at uni. So this story unknown to all I claimed brilliance and never said a further word when it was finally late enough for me to go over and coach.
I know this is a particularly boring story but I just had to remind people I was still alive it’s easy to forget;
cheerio folk... mf
Saturday, September 18, 2010
In my life, I hope I lie, and tell everyone you were a good wife, and I hope you die.
So, as you know by now, most of my time I spend dwelling in my abandoned Cat Lady Mansion, guzzling gin and hurling kittens at innocent bystanders from balconies, cackling in a manner as to show all of my gold false teeth and listening to Edith Piaf playing through a gramophone.
(Except exchange "Cat Lady Mansion" with "North-Eastern outer suburbs home", and "guzzling gin and hurling kittens" with "playing flute and drinking coffee" and "playing Edith Piaf through a gramophone" with "listening to Jay-Z from my Ipod". So... essentially the same thing).
The point is, my penchant for living in my own head leaves me a great deal of time to dwell on things that cause me bitterness (see: everything), and therefore, without further ado, I announce: It's that time again... SPONTANEOUS AND UNNECESSARY HATING ON SMALL ANNOYANCES IN MY LIFE TIME.
HOORAY.
1. Disgustingly Joyous Occasional Moments of Good Weather that Fade into Winter in Frustrating Mockery of our Hopefulness.
- For all the Melbournians out there (Melburnians? Whatever, get a fucking dictionary or something, I'm not here to teach you... how to... label... regional groups. FUCK OFF), you may have noticed that the weather has been entirely disgusting and depressingly awful for many, many months. Usually, I'd be okay with this.
Well... no, who am I kidding, I'd normally be ranting about it anyway. But at least when it's winter one can learn to accept that there's some kind of worldly natural force that creates "seasons" that are difficult to change with sheer force of will. Not that I haven't tried. And trust me, I can yell and scream like a crazy psycho bitch when I want to. An elderly man once told me that my voice would give him a seizure. Clearly he has never watched an episode of "The Nanny", because if you want to hear a seizure voice, Fran Drescher is probably the best option. Except for "Battling Seizure Robots", but I guess that's more to do with lights and stuff, but... where was I going with this? RIGHT, ANYWAY, SEASONS = UNCHANGEABLE FOR THOSE OF US LACKING IN OMNISCIENCE/OMNIPOTENCE/OMNIPRESENCE BLAH BLAH BLAH.
The point is: it's spring. It's still 14 degrees every day. EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY. And I realise that 14 degrees is not really cause for alarm. I am yet to bring my snow shovel to uni every day, and as a general rule I don't wear thermal underwear, but IT SHOULD BE WARMER.
Sometimes, however, I have noticed that the weather likes the fuck with me.
The other morning, I was heading into uni. I parked my car at the station, and walked down the road. Now... I live basically on the very edge of the outer suburbs, where the population of hippies starts to grow, and also, unfortunately, the population of indie-folk-upper-middle-class-teens who decide to play the banjo and start shit bands who play music with too much glockenspiel because they're like, totally alternative, and life is so hard for upper middle class teens, there's so little to do, they can barely pay for the damage they did to their car when they drove home drunk on a bottle of $80 scotch, didn't you know?
OH HELLO TANGENT, WHERE WAS I??? Anyway, so living where I live, there are a bunch of whimsical gum trees and blossoming wildflowers, and shit like that that fills the world with radiance and gets rid of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere or something.
So I walk towards the station. And I notice that the lawn around the station (yes - there is lawn) has been recently cut. The sun is out. There are bees buzzing around the weeping willows and cherry blossoms that have recently burst into flower, and a gentle breeze is making the freesias dip and sway delicately.
It is a brief moment of weather-related bliss. IT FILLED ME WITH AN INTENSE RAGE YOU CANNOT IMAGINE.
For one thing, what was I in, a fucking Beatrix Potter novel? Should I have been carrying an easel, being followed by an array of wild-but-friendly animals with a parasol over my lightly powdered face??
NO. NO I SHOULD NOT HAVE. THE WEATHER WAS MOCKING ME WITH ITS SUDDEN AND UNUSUAL NICENESS. Perhaps it sensed my rage, because several minutes later it began to bucket rain with the passion and intensity of a jilted ex-wife and a ridiculous wind started blowing at all of the lovely trees and flowers and bees and everything, which made me MORE BITTER THAN BEFORE because it was cold again and---
ANYWAY. THE MORAL OF THE STORY IS THAT THE WEATHER ONLY EXISTS TO CAUSE US MENTAL, PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL ANGUISH AT THE MOST INOPPORTUNE MOMENTS, AND LAUGH IN OUR FACES.
And you thought it was a "natural occurrence". Shame on you, naive and foolish reader.
2. Pretentious Musicians who have Mapped Out their Future Careers in All Their Glory.
- I'll let you in on a secret, merry D.I.D. a Mess readers: musicians don't make any money. As a general rule.
Musicians don't take music courses or start playing or making or writing music because they think that they'll have the opportunity to buy a solid gold house and paper the walls with $100 bills.
Unless they are exceptionally deluded.
Another fact you may or may not be aware of is that many musicians are exceptionally deluded.
In fact, it turns out that how deluded you are about being a brilliant musician who makes a lot of money is directly proportionate to how much of a pretentious twat you are. I know, I made a graph to document this once, and everyone thought it was really great and applauded me for my artistic and mathematical skill:
Creative AND accurate.
Anyway, I have met a great deal of musicians recently who have absolute certainty about the fact that their musical careers will be fruitful and rich and they will become concert performers who constantly book out large performance halls.
THESE PEOPLE MAKE ME WANT TO DIE IN A WELL. They often say things like:
"I only got this piece TWO DAYS AGO and NOW IT IS PERFECT even though it's at L-MUS LEVEL."
Or, "I MUST PRACTISE CONSTANTLY so I can play more gigs I AM IN HIGH DEMAND."
Or also, "I HAVE A PASSION FOR MUSIC. MY LIFE IS MUSIC. I AM A MUSICIAN. I PLAY AT ABOVE POSTGRADUATE LEVEL EVEN THOUGH I AM ONLY FIRST YEAR."
Which is all well and good, but when reality comes crashing down around your head in a year or so, and you realise you'll be a penniless busker until you die in the streets of hypothermia playing a patched-up piano accordion in the snow in 19th century Dickensian England, you still won't have gotten laid, will you?
I think something might have gone astray there.
Hm.
OH WELL.
It's late. I've been writing this all night.
Anyway, FEEL FREE TO WRITE SELF-INDULGENTLY ABOUT THE THINGS YOU HATE. I need sleep.
BAIIII GUYS.
xx
(Except exchange "Cat Lady Mansion" with "North-Eastern outer suburbs home", and "guzzling gin and hurling kittens" with "playing flute and drinking coffee" and "playing Edith Piaf through a gramophone" with "listening to Jay-Z from my Ipod". So... essentially the same thing).
The point is, my penchant for living in my own head leaves me a great deal of time to dwell on things that cause me bitterness (see: everything), and therefore, without further ado, I announce: It's that time again... SPONTANEOUS AND UNNECESSARY HATING ON SMALL ANNOYANCES IN MY LIFE TIME.
HOORAY.
1. Disgustingly Joyous Occasional Moments of Good Weather that Fade into Winter in Frustrating Mockery of our Hopefulness.
- For all the Melbournians out there (Melburnians? Whatever, get a fucking dictionary or something, I'm not here to teach you... how to... label... regional groups. FUCK OFF), you may have noticed that the weather has been entirely disgusting and depressingly awful for many, many months. Usually, I'd be okay with this.
Well... no, who am I kidding, I'd normally be ranting about it anyway. But at least when it's winter one can learn to accept that there's some kind of worldly natural force that creates "seasons" that are difficult to change with sheer force of will. Not that I haven't tried. And trust me, I can yell and scream like a crazy psycho bitch when I want to. An elderly man once told me that my voice would give him a seizure. Clearly he has never watched an episode of "The Nanny", because if you want to hear a seizure voice, Fran Drescher is probably the best option. Except for "Battling Seizure Robots", but I guess that's more to do with lights and stuff, but... where was I going with this? RIGHT, ANYWAY, SEASONS = UNCHANGEABLE FOR THOSE OF US LACKING IN OMNISCIENCE/OMNIPOTENCE/OMNIPRESENCE BLAH BLAH BLAH.
The point is: it's spring. It's still 14 degrees every day. EVERY MOTHERFUCKING DAY. And I realise that 14 degrees is not really cause for alarm. I am yet to bring my snow shovel to uni every day, and as a general rule I don't wear thermal underwear, but IT SHOULD BE WARMER.
Sometimes, however, I have noticed that the weather likes the fuck with me.
The other morning, I was heading into uni. I parked my car at the station, and walked down the road. Now... I live basically on the very edge of the outer suburbs, where the population of hippies starts to grow, and also, unfortunately, the population of indie-folk-upper-middle-class-teens who decide to play the banjo and start shit bands who play music with too much glockenspiel because they're like, totally alternative, and life is so hard for upper middle class teens, there's so little to do, they can barely pay for the damage they did to their car when they drove home drunk on a bottle of $80 scotch, didn't you know?
OH HELLO TANGENT, WHERE WAS I??? Anyway, so living where I live, there are a bunch of whimsical gum trees and blossoming wildflowers, and shit like that that fills the world with radiance and gets rid of carbon dioxide in the atmosphere or something.
So I walk towards the station. And I notice that the lawn around the station (yes - there is lawn) has been recently cut. The sun is out. There are bees buzzing around the weeping willows and cherry blossoms that have recently burst into flower, and a gentle breeze is making the freesias dip and sway delicately.
It is a brief moment of weather-related bliss. IT FILLED ME WITH AN INTENSE RAGE YOU CANNOT IMAGINE.
For one thing, what was I in, a fucking Beatrix Potter novel? Should I have been carrying an easel, being followed by an array of wild-but-friendly animals with a parasol over my lightly powdered face??
NO. NO I SHOULD NOT HAVE. THE WEATHER WAS MOCKING ME WITH ITS SUDDEN AND UNUSUAL NICENESS. Perhaps it sensed my rage, because several minutes later it began to bucket rain with the passion and intensity of a jilted ex-wife and a ridiculous wind started blowing at all of the lovely trees and flowers and bees and everything, which made me MORE BITTER THAN BEFORE because it was cold again and---
ANYWAY. THE MORAL OF THE STORY IS THAT THE WEATHER ONLY EXISTS TO CAUSE US MENTAL, PHYSICAL AND EMOTIONAL ANGUISH AT THE MOST INOPPORTUNE MOMENTS, AND LAUGH IN OUR FACES.
And you thought it was a "natural occurrence". Shame on you, naive and foolish reader.
2. Pretentious Musicians who have Mapped Out their Future Careers in All Their Glory.
- I'll let you in on a secret, merry D.I.D. a Mess readers: musicians don't make any money. As a general rule.
Musicians don't take music courses or start playing or making or writing music because they think that they'll have the opportunity to buy a solid gold house and paper the walls with $100 bills.
Unless they are exceptionally deluded.
Another fact you may or may not be aware of is that many musicians are exceptionally deluded.
In fact, it turns out that how deluded you are about being a brilliant musician who makes a lot of money is directly proportionate to how much of a pretentious twat you are. I know, I made a graph to document this once, and everyone thought it was really great and applauded me for my artistic and mathematical skill:
Creative AND accurate.
Anyway, I have met a great deal of musicians recently who have absolute certainty about the fact that their musical careers will be fruitful and rich and they will become concert performers who constantly book out large performance halls.
THESE PEOPLE MAKE ME WANT TO DIE IN A WELL. They often say things like:
"I only got this piece TWO DAYS AGO and NOW IT IS PERFECT even though it's at L-MUS LEVEL."
Or, "I MUST PRACTISE CONSTANTLY so I can play more gigs I AM IN HIGH DEMAND."
Or also, "I HAVE A PASSION FOR MUSIC. MY LIFE IS MUSIC. I AM A MUSICIAN. I PLAY AT ABOVE POSTGRADUATE LEVEL EVEN THOUGH I AM ONLY FIRST YEAR."
Which is all well and good, but when reality comes crashing down around your head in a year or so, and you realise you'll be a penniless busker until you die in the streets of hypothermia playing a patched-up piano accordion in the snow in 19th century Dickensian England, you still won't have gotten laid, will you?
I think something might have gone astray there.
Hm.
OH WELL.
It's late. I've been writing this all night.
Anyway, FEEL FREE TO WRITE SELF-INDULGENTLY ABOUT THE THINGS YOU HATE. I need sleep.
BAIIII GUYS.
xx
My Grey Sky Revelations: NUMERO UNO
OK, here's something I'm gonna try. Because as you all know my thought process follows the weather thanks to shamanic powers. In short, everytime it's cloudy, I'ma write something pshort, psweet and psychedelic. So these are my Grey Sky Revelations... because that sounded too cool in my mind to waste...
It's cold and the clouds are out. I'm sitting in my room, with music raging out my laptop and vibrating in the keyboard. (Klaxons - Surfing the Void... it's cool and spacey and a bit psychedelic and every bit excellent to sway to).
AND I'M THINKING... goddamnit I need to be more tired because tomorrow I'm gonna feel like I spent the last three days trying to refuse the sexual advances of a humvee but without the bruises to press charges... poignant and beautiful. Well, under that, (I THINK IN LAYERS, AND IN TYPEWRITER, BUT THAT IS A STORY FOR ANOTHER DAY) I was thinking about personas/masks/facades/charades/roles/reality/not really reality... DAMN, album finished... so, PINK FLOYD TIME!! (One Of These Days, bluesy piano meets the doctor who theme with really uhh.. laidback? guitar) But yeah, the masked faces under the masks. This really used to bug me, I think I wrote something on it in THAT OTHER BLOG, but masks are actually really cool. I'd wear one out if I had one... and get refused entry to places because of the crimes I'd no doubt commit. But they're cool, and they're everywhere. I like to think of it like undressing people, because it's dirty and masculine company acknowledges you more seamlessly when you've got bad intentions. But you start to take off people's masks, and see what kind of underwe... NO. Other masks they've got underneath. That's much more excellent. (More Pink Floyd, Saucerful of Secrets, because four movements means I don't have to change the music for a bit. Prog-pretense, I love you sometimes).
So yeah. SO YEAH. This is going to be short, don't hope for anything well thought out. I wear a mask all the time and I know it. I embrace it. AND I LOVE TO BE UNDRESSED BY SOMEONE ELSE BECAUSE IT'S NOT AS TANGLY AND YELLING...
Ahem or sorry or goodbye or all of the above.
TONGS AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"BECAUSE FUCK YOU, SHADOWS" - C. Tongs on his alleged involvement in strings of museum robberies
It's cold and the clouds are out. I'm sitting in my room, with music raging out my laptop and vibrating in the keyboard. (Klaxons - Surfing the Void... it's cool and spacey and a bit psychedelic and every bit excellent to sway to).
AND I'M THINKING... goddamnit I need to be more tired because tomorrow I'm gonna feel like I spent the last three days trying to refuse the sexual advances of a humvee but without the bruises to press charges... poignant and beautiful. Well, under that, (I THINK IN LAYERS, AND IN TYPEWRITER, BUT THAT IS A STORY FOR ANOTHER DAY) I was thinking about personas/masks/facades/charades/roles/reality/not really reality... DAMN, album finished... so, PINK FLOYD TIME!! (One Of These Days, bluesy piano meets the doctor who theme with really uhh.. laidback? guitar) But yeah, the masked faces under the masks. This really used to bug me, I think I wrote something on it in THAT OTHER BLOG, but masks are actually really cool. I'd wear one out if I had one... and get refused entry to places because of the crimes I'd no doubt commit. But they're cool, and they're everywhere. I like to think of it like undressing people, because it's dirty and masculine company acknowledges you more seamlessly when you've got bad intentions. But you start to take off people's masks, and see what kind of underwe... NO. Other masks they've got underneath. That's much more excellent. (More Pink Floyd, Saucerful of Secrets, because four movements means I don't have to change the music for a bit. Prog-pretense, I love you sometimes).
So yeah. SO YEAH. This is going to be short, don't hope for anything well thought out. I wear a mask all the time and I know it. I embrace it. AND I LOVE TO BE UNDRESSED BY SOMEONE ELSE BECAUSE IT'S NOT AS TANGLY AND YELLING...
Ahem or sorry or goodbye or all of the above.
TONGS AWAY!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
"BECAUSE FUCK YOU, SHADOWS" - C. Tongs on his alleged involvement in strings of museum robberies
Sunday, September 12, 2010
EVIDENCE? ... maybe one day ;)
But it was only fantasy
The Wall was too high as you can see
No matter how he tried, he could not break free
And the worms ate into his brain
Roger Waters
It's Sunday, I'm pissed off with god only knows, I haven't done anything else productive today, so why the fuck not?
Here's another rubbish post about stuff I've been writing lately, y'know, the kind of stuff that's generic and tedious, but might take on a life of it's own in the wake of suicide.
'Your sky won't stretch to cover my head,
I've got no insurance for when I'm dead'
'Let's never, ever be friends! Okay?'
'Faith moves mountains, death's more economic with his excavations'
'How many other ways to look are there?
I mean, it's got to all come to a grinding halt someday?'
'Constantly changing, my mind has no shape
There's still a hole, but nothing will fit'
'Remember who you used to be,
bright eyes, big fears and so many dreams.
But now look at it all
and what do you see?'
'I think I'm Jesus on a soapbox
cursing them with filth behind closed doors'
'If it's a question,
Who inspired who?
What's he trying to do?
Show everything he's read?
But what's he ever said?'
'We're all losing our minds over imaginary friends'
'Love is the answer, but his horse is hatred'
'The mirror breaks
Flays the fake
A million portraits shine
Still, none of them are mine'
'MY BAPTISM ISN'T WORKING,
I NEED TO COME UP FOR AIR,
PLEASE, LET ME COME BACK UP THERE,
I'M BEGGING YOU, LET ME BREATHE,
PLEASE, IT WON'T WORK, I'M SORRY
YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME, PLEASE
YOU'RE DROWNING ME, I CAN'T DO IT
LET GO. LET GO! LET GO?'
'I like the beautiful people most,
Disobedient and wayward eyes, crumbling lips
Marred skin to cling feebly to the bone,
Veins burrowing through bodies,
Teeth screaming amidst catastrophe.
Anything but that stare
empty and unaware
blinding hair.
The horrific scare
at the care,
in a corpse drawn with beauty's remorse'
'What's wrong with your hands, they're so cold. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO.
How was your day? I love it. I LOVE IT. But who are you? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!... YOU AGAIN?!?! You look... stupid. I think you should see someone about that. YOU ANGRY, TWISTED LITTLE PERSON. Not me, YOU'RE AWFUL. Because one day you'll know what love is like. You can talk, I won't judge. You look really suspicious though'
'I SMASHED THE GODDAMN ANGEL, ALRIGHT!!
THE ONE WITH IT'S EYES CLOSED, BECAUSE IT MADE ME ANGRY,
HOW IT JUST DIDN'T FUCKING CARE WHEN IT FELL APART.
IT TRIED TO KILL ME, BUT YOU KEPT IT'S GODDAMN WINGS?!?!
I KNOW YOU CAN SEE THOUGH, SEE JUST HOW YOU DON'T CARE EITHER'
'You can't actually die if you don't ever start to live!'
'The best day of my life was when I got to be everything I'd ever hated and noone had to know'
'Stretch me out until I tear apart,
I know you just don't care.
It won't kill me, just make me mad.
I'll just rage through the flaming rave,
searchlights spinning, sirens singing.
I'll dance through the fires of your lives,
Through everything you thought you were,
everything you think you're entitled.
The throbbing of your guns is my beat,
The authoritarian commands the lyric.
My fury burns from nothing
But yours burns you from inside.
You tear apart your own lives trying to make it right.
And I can keep dancing your fucking Danse Macabre
while it starts to make some sense.'
'In the spring when the buds open,
you can finally find what was waiting to emerge.
Some flowers are just learning now
how sick they always were.
Beautiful flowers are fragrant
with no right to a fucked up stench.
With no way to keep buds closed 'til death
they just pray they'll be cut into
a nasty, empty bouquet and hope the sun's the other way'
Meh, leave feedback, pretend you didn't read any of it, do that awkward thing I run along with where we meet face to face and don't bring it up under any circumstances, I don't care.
Just for the sake of it, here's something I just sat and streamed for a while some time ago. I'd really advise people to try this, it can be pretty awesome to just write for the sake of it with one prompt or something or nothing. It can be pretty interesting. And let's be honest, all we're really doing is killing time til we hit the hay for good, why not try it? Hell, why not try, anything?
One beep and you're gone, off my radar, out of my ocean. Taking silent steps in scary directions. Seeing the future I already heard about. The wet dry man with a beard full of sand sings in my band wrapped around my head. Step away from me or step in me and never leave. But I'll never know climbing up and down holes and thrills to see the rising collapse on the last day. "Coils of light!", the serpent roars while little men make their wars but the devil and me, we've got nice shoes and don't need clothes to step them into the mushy ground. The helicopter bopper struts his stuff, we laugh and play cards but he punches my nose and away he goes in fire and smoke. I claim his arm as my prize. Blue and green suit, hat with stars and moon, just jiving and salsa with heels and a face. But she's taking me back to her place. I know it can see me, it's long fingers flick through my mind like pages, it removes it's glasses then... SCREAMS!!! I'm disgusting this monster. I looked in the abyss too long. Now wind blows through my empty soul. A barren world is all I ever wanted so this is all my fault. Someone dances as the vultures and crows tear at me, It's like a mirror mixing my emotions. My Badness laughs at my bones being cast. He's winning, the sun is setting, but we kiss anyway, it's passion, it's real like the pain, which one did I ask for? I wake up from the apocalypse outside my eyelids. Am I insane? Was I insane? Crying for a while I wed myself to herbut she turns to dust and I turn back to me again. He's there, just grinning. I take to the sky to make my escape, He follows riding a yellow eyed, black snake. Spinning around it's tornado takes me. So I just ran across the meadow. "WHERE ARE YOU?!?" I yell but her stones can't answer. I can't do this alone. He breaks the stone with his foot and laughs like a child. I hear the waves crash. I hear the birds sing. Under the shade of that tree where I learned it all, The sun's a little too bright. I can't outsleep the dream or run to escape the nightmare. This is funny for everyone. Naked with a funny hat and drowning in my own blood. They're really happy though! I don't want to make them sad. My green field is going, creeping slowly across the mountains, those insurmountable walls. I weep as a child again. "Give me my world back!" I cry to the wise men, but they turn their backs and hum other tunes as the sea's grey roar hides them in it's foggy breath. Falling or flying, or floating or lying, I don't know anymore. I don't care.
Have some random quotes... you've earned them, I think...
"I have just now come from a party where I was its life and soul; witticisms streamed from my lips, everyone laughed and admired me, but I went away - yes, the dash should be as long as the radius of the earth's orbit -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- and wanted to shoot myself." - Soren Kierkegaard
"I knew I was different. I thought that I might be gay or something because I couldn't identify with any of the guys at all. None of them liked art or music, they just wanted to fight and get laid. It was many years ago but it gave me this real hatred for the average American macho male." - Kurt Cobain
"I want to work in revelations, not just spin silly tales for money. I want to fish as deep down as possible into my own subconscious in the belief that once that far down, everyone will understand because they are the same that far down." - Jack Kerouac
"If there is a Devil at work, then he rests in institutions and not in individuals. Because the beauty of institutions is that any individual can abdicate responsibility. The assumption that we're all utterly powerless, that's the Devil at work." - Thom Yorke
"That's all I wanted to do as a kid. Play a guitar properly and jump around. But too many people got in the way." - Syd Barrett
"If you have hitherto believed that life was one of the highest value and now see yourselves disappointed, do you at once have to reduce it to the lowest possible price?" - Friedrich Nietzsche
Thanks for reading!... Yeah, it was a little bit schizophrenic and everywhere, but whatever, I have the most posts here, you have to love me! *laughter maniacal, and slow fade*
The Wall was too high as you can see
No matter how he tried, he could not break free
And the worms ate into his brain
Roger Waters
It's Sunday, I'm pissed off with god only knows, I haven't done anything else productive today, so why the fuck not?
Here's another rubbish post about stuff I've been writing lately, y'know, the kind of stuff that's generic and tedious, but might take on a life of it's own in the wake of suicide.
'Your sky won't stretch to cover my head,
I've got no insurance for when I'm dead'
'Let's never, ever be friends! Okay?'
'Faith moves mountains, death's more economic with his excavations'
'How many other ways to look are there?
I mean, it's got to all come to a grinding halt someday?'
'Constantly changing, my mind has no shape
There's still a hole, but nothing will fit'
'Remember who you used to be,
bright eyes, big fears and so many dreams.
But now look at it all
and what do you see?'
'I think I'm Jesus on a soapbox
cursing them with filth behind closed doors'
'If it's a question,
Who inspired who?
What's he trying to do?
Show everything he's read?
But what's he ever said?'
'We're all losing our minds over imaginary friends'
'Love is the answer, but his horse is hatred'
'The mirror breaks
Flays the fake
A million portraits shine
Still, none of them are mine'
'MY BAPTISM ISN'T WORKING,
I NEED TO COME UP FOR AIR,
PLEASE, LET ME COME BACK UP THERE,
I'M BEGGING YOU, LET ME BREATHE,
PLEASE, IT WON'T WORK, I'M SORRY
YOU HAVE TO BELIEVE ME, PLEASE
YOU'RE DROWNING ME, I CAN'T DO IT
LET GO. LET GO! LET GO?'
'I like the beautiful people most,
Disobedient and wayward eyes, crumbling lips
Marred skin to cling feebly to the bone,
Veins burrowing through bodies,
Teeth screaming amidst catastrophe.
Anything but that stare
empty and unaware
blinding hair.
The horrific scare
at the care,
in a corpse drawn with beauty's remorse'
'What's wrong with your hands, they're so cold. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO. HELLO.
How was your day? I love it. I LOVE IT. But who are you? BECAUSE I LOVE YOU!... YOU AGAIN?!?! You look... stupid. I think you should see someone about that. YOU ANGRY, TWISTED LITTLE PERSON. Not me, YOU'RE AWFUL. Because one day you'll know what love is like. You can talk, I won't judge. You look really suspicious though'
'I SMASHED THE GODDAMN ANGEL, ALRIGHT!!
THE ONE WITH IT'S EYES CLOSED, BECAUSE IT MADE ME ANGRY,
HOW IT JUST DIDN'T FUCKING CARE WHEN IT FELL APART.
IT TRIED TO KILL ME, BUT YOU KEPT IT'S GODDAMN WINGS?!?!
I KNOW YOU CAN SEE THOUGH, SEE JUST HOW YOU DON'T CARE EITHER'
'You can't actually die if you don't ever start to live!'
'The best day of my life was when I got to be everything I'd ever hated and noone had to know'
'Stretch me out until I tear apart,
I know you just don't care.
It won't kill me, just make me mad.
I'll just rage through the flaming rave,
searchlights spinning, sirens singing.
I'll dance through the fires of your lives,
Through everything you thought you were,
everything you think you're entitled.
The throbbing of your guns is my beat,
The authoritarian commands the lyric.
My fury burns from nothing
But yours burns you from inside.
You tear apart your own lives trying to make it right.
And I can keep dancing your fucking Danse Macabre
while it starts to make some sense.'
'In the spring when the buds open,
you can finally find what was waiting to emerge.
Some flowers are just learning now
how sick they always were.
Beautiful flowers are fragrant
with no right to a fucked up stench.
With no way to keep buds closed 'til death
they just pray they'll be cut into
a nasty, empty bouquet and hope the sun's the other way'
Meh, leave feedback, pretend you didn't read any of it, do that awkward thing I run along with where we meet face to face and don't bring it up under any circumstances, I don't care.
Just for the sake of it, here's something I just sat and streamed for a while some time ago. I'd really advise people to try this, it can be pretty awesome to just write for the sake of it with one prompt or something or nothing. It can be pretty interesting. And let's be honest, all we're really doing is killing time til we hit the hay for good, why not try it? Hell, why not try, anything?
One beep and you're gone, off my radar, out of my ocean. Taking silent steps in scary directions. Seeing the future I already heard about. The wet dry man with a beard full of sand sings in my band wrapped around my head. Step away from me or step in me and never leave. But I'll never know climbing up and down holes and thrills to see the rising collapse on the last day. "Coils of light!", the serpent roars while little men make their wars but the devil and me, we've got nice shoes and don't need clothes to step them into the mushy ground. The helicopter bopper struts his stuff, we laugh and play cards but he punches my nose and away he goes in fire and smoke. I claim his arm as my prize. Blue and green suit, hat with stars and moon, just jiving and salsa with heels and a face. But she's taking me back to her place. I know it can see me, it's long fingers flick through my mind like pages, it removes it's glasses then... SCREAMS!!! I'm disgusting this monster. I looked in the abyss too long. Now wind blows through my empty soul. A barren world is all I ever wanted so this is all my fault. Someone dances as the vultures and crows tear at me, It's like a mirror mixing my emotions. My Badness laughs at my bones being cast. He's winning, the sun is setting, but we kiss anyway, it's passion, it's real like the pain, which one did I ask for? I wake up from the apocalypse outside my eyelids. Am I insane? Was I insane? Crying for a while I wed myself to herbut she turns to dust and I turn back to me again. He's there, just grinning. I take to the sky to make my escape, He follows riding a yellow eyed, black snake. Spinning around it's tornado takes me. So I just ran across the meadow. "WHERE ARE YOU?!?" I yell but her stones can't answer. I can't do this alone. He breaks the stone with his foot and laughs like a child. I hear the waves crash. I hear the birds sing. Under the shade of that tree where I learned it all, The sun's a little too bright. I can't outsleep the dream or run to escape the nightmare. This is funny for everyone. Naked with a funny hat and drowning in my own blood. They're really happy though! I don't want to make them sad. My green field is going, creeping slowly across the mountains, those insurmountable walls. I weep as a child again. "Give me my world back!" I cry to the wise men, but they turn their backs and hum other tunes as the sea's grey roar hides them in it's foggy breath. Falling or flying, or floating or lying, I don't know anymore. I don't care.
Have some random quotes... you've earned them, I think...
"I have just now come from a party where I was its life and soul; witticisms streamed from my lips, everyone laughed and admired me, but I went away - yes, the dash should be as long as the radius of the earth's orbit -------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- and wanted to shoot myself." - Soren Kierkegaard
"I knew I was different. I thought that I might be gay or something because I couldn't identify with any of the guys at all. None of them liked art or music, they just wanted to fight and get laid. It was many years ago but it gave me this real hatred for the average American macho male." - Kurt Cobain
"I want to work in revelations, not just spin silly tales for money. I want to fish as deep down as possible into my own subconscious in the belief that once that far down, everyone will understand because they are the same that far down." - Jack Kerouac
"If there is a Devil at work, then he rests in institutions and not in individuals. Because the beauty of institutions is that any individual can abdicate responsibility. The assumption that we're all utterly powerless, that's the Devil at work." - Thom Yorke
"That's all I wanted to do as a kid. Play a guitar properly and jump around. But too many people got in the way." - Syd Barrett
"If you have hitherto believed that life was one of the highest value and now see yourselves disappointed, do you at once have to reduce it to the lowest possible price?" - Friedrich Nietzsche
Thanks for reading!... Yeah, it was a little bit schizophrenic and everywhere, but whatever, I have the most posts here, you have to love me! *laughter maniacal, and slow fade*
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