OK, today went from crappy to worse than crappy, but I've managed to turn it around in the last quarter by booking a trip to Thailand! My sister promises me it will be very cheap and that we will meet some boys called Hans and Sven and that no-one will regret anything. I'm regretting the $870 airfare I just spontaneously added to the outstanding $2200 on my credit card but hey; ...um ... nope, still regretting that part.
Why can't exes just leave the country, eh? Do they have to just show up in places unexpectedly? It's so ANNOYING. It completely ruins my whole pretend-you-disappeared-off-the-face-of-the-earth system, a strategy whose success thus far was FURTHER thwarted with information regarding said exes current life WHICH I've been choosing to believe was all over post-me.
I mean it's just selfish.
Lucky I'm going to Thailand. We will stay in simple bungalows and kayak about eating mangoes. That fixes everything, uh-huh. No really.
Wednesday, July 26, 2006
Tuesday, July 25, 2006
The facts don't lie; an occasional series part 1
OK lets look at some statistics ...
Total comments on blog thus far: 28
Teigan 14
Wortwut (ie self) 9
Mishuki 4
deleted 2
Li 1
Given that Teigan has committed seppuku (and while my own comments may reflect the Greatest Love of All I don't call myself a particularly enlightening commenter), I'd say Mishuki wins the prize !! If there was one!
What happened to the other 75 nobodies who viewed my profile? ... turned away in disgust, that's what they did.
How about if I put up a video of myself tapdancing? How cheap and whorish should one be to get the numbers up??
Total comments on blog thus far: 28
Teigan 14
Wortwut (ie self) 9
Mishuki 4
deleted 2
Li 1
Given that Teigan has committed seppuku (and while my own comments may reflect the Greatest Love of All I don't call myself a particularly enlightening commenter), I'd say Mishuki wins the prize !! If there was one!
What happened to the other 75 nobodies who viewed my profile? ... turned away in disgust, that's what they did.
How about if I put up a video of myself tapdancing? How cheap and whorish should one be to get the numbers up??
Monday, July 24, 2006
Results of survey
I've analysed the data and must now conclude that's its better for the soul to be a lovable tit/harmless fool and always be dancing like a wally than to bore the pants off some perfectly interesting normal musician about why you hate [insert annoying thing here].
Keeps em off the streets, see.
Parties without dancing - what's WITH that?
Keeps em off the streets, see.
Parties without dancing - what's WITH that?
satdee night
so, last night I went to a party. I was pretty happy as it has been a long time since I went to a party. However, upon arriving and existing throughout said party, it proed to be a bit of a dud. Perfectly nice, but not anything to take photos of and write to ones's blog about. Kinda dull. So in order to make things more fun I guzzled lots of scotch, interfered with the music and tried to get people to dance. By dropping to the floor in a kind of bridge thing and thrusting upwards, one arm ceilingwards, a la Push It. While Push It played, natch. I learnt two things.
1. Getting laughs is all very well but it can alienate people from the dance floor.
and,
2. Dancing like that gives you sore ribs and neck the next day.
Survey -
which is a better person to be at a so-so party -
a- the one dancing like an idiot sans lampshade on head but only just
b- always in the kitchen (tricky when party is in one room aptmt)
c- ...I've run out of ideas.
d- see above
1. Getting laughs is all very well but it can alienate people from the dance floor.
and,
2. Dancing like that gives you sore ribs and neck the next day.
Survey -
which is a better person to be at a so-so party -
a- the one dancing like an idiot sans lampshade on head but only just
b- always in the kitchen (tricky when party is in one room aptmt)
c- ...I've run out of ideas.
d- see above
So much for early night shock
Q. What has just happened when Sorority Boys comes on TV and you think to yourself 'finally, something a bit sensible to watch whose narrative I can really invest in'?
A. You've just finished watching Scary Movie 3
A. You've just finished watching Scary Movie 3
Saturday, July 22, 2006
keep playing those word games
Saw a show today that involved a video featuring repeated singing of the phrase 'old grey mashy aint what she used to be, aint what she used to be, aint what she used to be'.
Now, you and I both know it's mare.
But does the artist? Of course he does. It fits in ... 'whoops! I got it "wrong"'
Things that challenge my self-righteousness are possibly healthy. Likely.
Now I have 'great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts' stuck in my head. When will this world of pain come to an end!
Now, you and I both know it's mare.
But does the artist? Of course he does. It fits in ... 'whoops! I got it "wrong"'
Things that challenge my self-righteousness are possibly healthy. Likely.
Now I have 'great green globs of greasy grimy gopher guts' stuck in my head. When will this world of pain come to an end!
Monday, July 17, 2006
Banal personal revelations
Today I couldn't believe how openly stupid people were being to me at work. My incredulousness was palpable ... I was all 'what are you THINKING?' 'am I the only SANE ONE here?' etc etc. It was like a twilight zone of stupid.
Then when I get home my flatmate assures me (with a conspiratorially superior air) that it's because Mercury is in retrograde, communication's all fucked! Ha!
So that cleared everything up. Just gotta sit out the waning of Mercury. Once it like, ameliorates or whatever, then everything will be DANDY.
Then we sat in front of the heater affirming our freedom and financial independence (15 minutes a day for three months, right?) before saying goodnight.
Then when I get home my flatmate assures me (with a conspiratorially superior air) that it's because Mercury is in retrograde, communication's all fucked! Ha!
So that cleared everything up. Just gotta sit out the waning of Mercury. Once it like, ameliorates or whatever, then everything will be DANDY.
Then we sat in front of the heater affirming our freedom and financial independence (15 minutes a day for three months, right?) before saying goodnight.
Monday, July 10, 2006
Apologies in advance
Sometimes when I look at Hagakure 419 I get this song in my head ... Camptown Races, you know the one ... try it
Ha ga ku re 4 1 9, doo dah, doo dah
It certainly gets annoying, doesn't it?
Ha ga ku re 4 1 9, doo dah, doo dah
It certainly gets annoying, doesn't it?
Welcome
Welcome to the most boring blog in the world. I've been working really hard on getting things to this stage, and I think you'll find that I've done a pretty good job, even if I do say so myself. Things were touch and go at the beginning there; words were added, thoughts were aired (I'm not saying it was right), but since those shaky beginnings I'm proud to have really gotten rid of all of those petty attempts at creating 'points of interest' and 'entertainment' and what-have-you. The last seven weeks or so have been the purest in my blogging life. I know I can't truly convey what this journey has been like for me; I can simply be glad you were travelling with me. Even though you may not have known it at the time.
Thursday, May 11, 2006
I do actually have a new apartment, actually
... except it's a federation semi in Marrickville and I haven't moved there yet. I have a garden that's like a mouth I'm gonna put my money in the same location as. I've talked so much about growing things that I better damn well do it. I have three hay bales to start me off. I went to an opening tonight that I really enjoyed. Talked to some people I know well, talked to some people I don't know well ... the little things, y'know? I find my mood is always dependent on contingencies - situations, environments, hangers-on, passers-by ... blah de blah banal. A few drinks this evening, [what's the singular of folks?]. It was a nice feeling.
Isn't the word 'blog' such a downer? some marketer should come up with a less unsexy-sounding word. "I'm feeling a bit bloggy today, I can't come to work". It must be the double g.
I wrote some graffitti in the toilets tonight. I couldn't resist; there was grammatical argument taking place. In combination with some art bitching. Not a helpful addition to the discourse but hey. Ever had that feeling that you should get off your arse and become invoolved in the discussion, only to realise that it is none the richer for your participation? Blogging and toilet cubicle grafitti: something in common at last.
There's this whole thing with the performance of blogging (especially after having lurked for so long), about who might be reading, who knows what or thinks what about what's written. The whole anonymity thing seems pretty silly to me, aside from the frankly unlikely in most cases threat of personal harm or physical stalking or whatever. Your ego doesn't go away, and you still have an identity. I guess you just have more than one. It's like when you travel to get away from whatever's going wrong; sooner or later it comes back, because you always take yourself and your problems/pattens with you.
I am so sleepy that I have to go to sleepy sleep now.
Isn't the word 'blog' such a downer? some marketer should come up with a less unsexy-sounding word. "I'm feeling a bit bloggy today, I can't come to work". It must be the double g.
I wrote some graffitti in the toilets tonight. I couldn't resist; there was grammatical argument taking place. In combination with some art bitching. Not a helpful addition to the discourse but hey. Ever had that feeling that you should get off your arse and become invoolved in the discussion, only to realise that it is none the richer for your participation? Blogging and toilet cubicle grafitti: something in common at last.
There's this whole thing with the performance of blogging (especially after having lurked for so long), about who might be reading, who knows what or thinks what about what's written. The whole anonymity thing seems pretty silly to me, aside from the frankly unlikely in most cases threat of personal harm or physical stalking or whatever. Your ego doesn't go away, and you still have an identity. I guess you just have more than one. It's like when you travel to get away from whatever's going wrong; sooner or later it comes back, because you always take yourself and your problems/pattens with you.
I am so sleepy that I have to go to sleepy sleep now.
Monday, May 08, 2006
I've got a new apartment, baby
OK, you can tell me if this is just normal, but I feel it to be a somewhat tragically abnormal series of coincidences and ... dunno, paths crossing type occurrences. It's very late and I've had a big weekend so it won't be written well.
My magazine features an a guy in the upcoming issue who makes pictures out of liquid nails. He wanted to get into the Archibald Prize so he made some liquid nails portraits of his favourite band, the Go-Betweens. He wrote this frank and amusing piece about meeting them, about his working process and his snubbing by the Art Establishment, man. It's my favourite piece in the magazine. It's insightful and accessible and self-deprecating. We liked the works themselves so much we decided to put them on the cover. So.
I've got a new job at a gallery. We have casual preparators who come and help us hang the shows every month. The first day i met our regular guy (who is an excellent person and a good preparator to boot) I asked him if he was an artist (many of the preps are). He said he used to be, but now he was a musician. I didn't ask him who he played with because I (stupidly) assumed I wouldn't know them and that that might be embarassing. Then I spend the next few days taking sideways glances at him to try and work out why he looks so familiar ("could he be ... no ... MAYbe ... should I ask him? nah ..."). So my boss tells me at lunch later that he's a drummer. For the Go-Betweens. Huh. Funny coincidence. I go home and look said preparator up and find out I've actually seen him play a number of gigs in one of my old favourite bands. (Custard! He was in Custard! hence the unplaceable familiarity). Then of course I am too star-struck to say anything about it, and lo, the working week is done and we see our casual preparator no more. Flukily, I had been listening to Custard and the Titanics that week in my car, after having not listened to them for years.
Today i've been designing the fliers for the launch party for our new issue, featuring the Go-Betweens images (they're so great!). I'm looking at the boggle-eyed head of Grant McLennan as rendered in bright orange paint and liquid nails all evening. My flatmate comes home, goes to the Herald online and announces Grant McLennan died in his sleep last night.
And we're about to put out a magazine with his portrait on the cover.
Poor preparator. I'm not sure if I know him well enough for a condolences email (or maybe that's the best way to offer condolences to someone you don't know). And do we, as publishers, become exploiters of the sentimental response to this poor man's premature death? Is it wrong to feel happy that we have this great work about him, that's somehow made weighty now, and sort of more important? Or that a death can make you feel, even superficially, more connected?
The net seems to expand all the time. I think if you were immortal, you could eventually have a connection to each person on this earth. Assuming you had good social skills. I do feel uncomfortable though. It's pretty pathetic to feel connected to famous people. That's how stalkers get started.
Anyway. My condolences, world. I'm exhausted and must sleep.
My magazine features an a guy in the upcoming issue who makes pictures out of liquid nails. He wanted to get into the Archibald Prize so he made some liquid nails portraits of his favourite band, the Go-Betweens. He wrote this frank and amusing piece about meeting them, about his working process and his snubbing by the Art Establishment, man. It's my favourite piece in the magazine. It's insightful and accessible and self-deprecating. We liked the works themselves so much we decided to put them on the cover. So.
I've got a new job at a gallery. We have casual preparators who come and help us hang the shows every month. The first day i met our regular guy (who is an excellent person and a good preparator to boot) I asked him if he was an artist (many of the preps are). He said he used to be, but now he was a musician. I didn't ask him who he played with because I (stupidly) assumed I wouldn't know them and that that might be embarassing. Then I spend the next few days taking sideways glances at him to try and work out why he looks so familiar ("could he be ... no ... MAYbe ... should I ask him? nah ..."). So my boss tells me at lunch later that he's a drummer. For the Go-Betweens. Huh. Funny coincidence. I go home and look said preparator up and find out I've actually seen him play a number of gigs in one of my old favourite bands. (Custard! He was in Custard! hence the unplaceable familiarity). Then of course I am too star-struck to say anything about it, and lo, the working week is done and we see our casual preparator no more. Flukily, I had been listening to Custard and the Titanics that week in my car, after having not listened to them for years.
Today i've been designing the fliers for the launch party for our new issue, featuring the Go-Betweens images (they're so great!). I'm looking at the boggle-eyed head of Grant McLennan as rendered in bright orange paint and liquid nails all evening. My flatmate comes home, goes to the Herald online and announces Grant McLennan died in his sleep last night.
And we're about to put out a magazine with his portrait on the cover.
Poor preparator. I'm not sure if I know him well enough for a condolences email (or maybe that's the best way to offer condolences to someone you don't know). And do we, as publishers, become exploiters of the sentimental response to this poor man's premature death? Is it wrong to feel happy that we have this great work about him, that's somehow made weighty now, and sort of more important? Or that a death can make you feel, even superficially, more connected?
The net seems to expand all the time. I think if you were immortal, you could eventually have a connection to each person on this earth. Assuming you had good social skills. I do feel uncomfortable though. It's pretty pathetic to feel connected to famous people. That's how stalkers get started.
Anyway. My condolences, world. I'm exhausted and must sleep.
Thursday, May 04, 2006
Question
Do all these shitty little posts put people off reading? Or do great swathes of text do that?
I'd really like to know.
I'd really like to know.
License flashing before eyes shock
I am fucking starving and quite late. Should I:
a) eat, but what and where
b) take a cab to this opening and get drunk, then eat
c) drive to the opening and be restrained, then eat,
d) stay home and do work (just kidding), d) i don't know what other options there are.
e) drive to food then to opening and be restrained
Basically, I'm fishing for a ride to Paddington. Via Fatimas.
Not going to happen, is it.
Wait! Epiphany ...
f) eat toast, then consider future
I drank lotsa wine the other night then got breath-tested on the way home. Didn't lose the ol' license though. Does this mean:
i) I'm naturally lucky and should therefore continue to drink and drive
ii) It's a warning sign from the universe that I've been blessed this once and I should mend my ways before I get zapped with a lightning bolt, which will DEFINITELY happen next time
iii) nothing whatsoever
toast it is.
a) eat, but what and where
b) take a cab to this opening and get drunk, then eat
c) drive to the opening and be restrained, then eat,
d) stay home and do work (just kidding), d) i don't know what other options there are.
e) drive to food then to opening and be restrained
Basically, I'm fishing for a ride to Paddington. Via Fatimas.
Not going to happen, is it.
Wait! Epiphany ...
f) eat toast, then consider future
I drank lotsa wine the other night then got breath-tested on the way home. Didn't lose the ol' license though. Does this mean:
i) I'm naturally lucky and should therefore continue to drink and drive
ii) It's a warning sign from the universe that I've been blessed this once and I should mend my ways before I get zapped with a lightning bolt, which will DEFINITELY happen next time
iii) nothing whatsoever
toast it is.
Late-adopter banalities
I got a comment. Thanks Li. I know you but you don't know me. Don't you find that strange? Or is that what type B bloggers are, like, into? Not to be rude. Ooh, all this new etiquette to get complexes about!
Tuesday, May 02, 2006
Beddibyes and Jimmyjams no I mean really
Does anyone have any statistics on what percentage of blogs are started by people going through breakups? Anecdotally, I'd say, like, at least some. (See how I'm asking questions to encourage involvement? It's all this psychology I've been studying).
And will this post finally push the In Happier Times photos down far enough ... out of my face, shiny happy people holding hands!
And will this post finally push the In Happier Times photos down far enough ... out of my face, shiny happy people holding hands!
Look, now you're just being SILLY
(see title for content)
...
this is funner than I had imagined!
I'm like a little kid in the car making the electronic windows go up and down up and down up and down
...
this is funner than I had imagined!
I'm like a little kid in the car making the electronic windows go up and down up and down up and down
Muse muse muse whimsy muse stop
The other day my sister looked up her old friend's blog and trawled it thoroughly looking for references to herself. Is this normal?
Note to self
Be less referential in new blog. Must. Impress. Blogerati.
I don't know what I'd do without you, Kitty. You're a true friend.
I don't know what I'd do without you, Kitty. You're a true friend.
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