Japan is a crazy place, don't think I can describe it more clearly any other way. Loving it, but should have had another lifetime to explore and maybe a day or two to prepare before departure.
Now in the common room of the guest house where the crew is talking about getting gastro in Vietnam in colourful terms like 'rocket' and 'orbit'.
Tomorrow I'm exploring beautiful Kyoto, then Hiroshima, Friday I'll be going into the mountains for a bit of Sento, the traditional japanese hot springs, before hitting Tokyo again and flying out on Saturday.
Can't wait for Norway, but don't want to leave either.
Tuesday, December 9, 2008
Friday, November 28, 2008
So, last night I had a talk to my two meter's about scandinavian architecture, middle eastern restaurants in east Brunswick and breaking up. It was all very civilized, no strong emotions or passions, interesting to see the similarities with the relationship..
Today I went swimming after work and then got complimented by a straight guy for my torso while having dinner. Very odd.
How awesome is this little dog:
Today I went swimming after work and then got complimented by a straight guy for my torso while having dinner. Very odd.
How awesome is this little dog:
Tuesday, November 25, 2008
Movember
By the way, I'm doing movember, mustache growing month. Meaning me looking like Burt F'n Reynolds meets pedo bear meets Ned Flanders for the last three weeks all for the sake of mens prostates and free burgers at Grill'd. Apparently I am passionate about tackling men's health issues and being proactive in the fight against men's depression and prostate cancer. I'm doing it for the burgers.
Donate online using your credit card or PayPal account to help the cause.
Suggestions to mo-designs are welcome as the last couple of days people have been literally folding at the hip or sprawling on the floor in laughter when they see me. Or asking me to say something that Ned would say.. Okily dokily.
Hi-diddly-ho!
Donate online using your credit card or PayPal account to help the cause.
Suggestions to mo-designs are welcome as the last couple of days people have been literally folding at the hip or sprawling on the floor in laughter when they see me. Or asking me to say something that Ned would say.. Okily dokily.
Hi-diddly-ho!
konichiwa
Have some imported Japanese banana cake, with a complimentary non-edible oxygen removing sachet..
So the other day I accidentally came to read a text message on my boyfriend's cell phone from one of his best friends which has had me basically trying to break this going-nowhere-and-doing-so-slowly relationship since. I should have confronted him straight away of course, which I was too shocked to do, and after a bit of consoling retail therapy it just seemed too late. Damned nice jeans and an awesome top though, in retrospect.
It just feels so empty when you realize that a person whom you've devoted the better of four months to doesn't even respect you and as of late is mainly burrowing himself in work and making up excuses not to see you. Enough on that topic, I've been over it for too long already and can't be bothered to elaborate. All I need is a quick fix to break this chain that's been tying me down too long. And the actual coinciding of these two ships in the night as we're mainly outside shouting distance.. Telling someone that you feel inadequate and redundant and that the both of you will probably be better off with another prefix than 'relation' to the 'ship' (though at the moment I can't see much future in even having any kinds of relations..) is something that I don't want to do in any other form than in person.
Other news.. Finally I got my computer back from repairs; Apple took their sweet 5 weeks of time repairing it, and I gave them some pretty interesting feedback scores in their web survey. As if they'll care anyhow. It's quite fascinating to see how absorbed and dependent I really was of this machine. Without it I actually was getting up at six in the morning and going to the gym, feeling fresh and great. First day back and it's already 2AM. I know this situation just all too well..
I've also just got four more days left at work before heading to Japan for two weeks and then home to Norway for five awesome weeks of holidays..! I'm so excited I might've soiled my pants. I'll try and visit some family friends in Hiroshima, but not sure if I'll be able to make it all the way there. trying to find some bullet trains now, apparently it takes about five hours or so on to hiroshima, 894.2km's from Tokyo. Not that crazily impressive high speed as the French TGV i caught about ten years ago did 310k's an hour, but still - good name for a train.
I've also been one week in Tassie, or Tasmania, bicycling for the last week with a friend from the office. Beautiful nature, lots of roadkill and plenty of head wind. Good to get to know people in a situation outside the office environment, particularly people who you have conversations you feel challenge you and make you consider your own standings as a man. In the highly rare unlikelihood that he should come across this blog; thanks R-train for an awesome trip, you pretty much made my year! (Japan still to come though, you're up for some competition..)
Love your local train station:
So the other day I accidentally came to read a text message on my boyfriend's cell phone from one of his best friends which has had me basically trying to break this going-nowhere-and-doing-so-slowly relationship since. I should have confronted him straight away of course, which I was too shocked to do, and after a bit of consoling retail therapy it just seemed too late. Damned nice jeans and an awesome top though, in retrospect.
It just feels so empty when you realize that a person whom you've devoted the better of four months to doesn't even respect you and as of late is mainly burrowing himself in work and making up excuses not to see you. Enough on that topic, I've been over it for too long already and can't be bothered to elaborate. All I need is a quick fix to break this chain that's been tying me down too long. And the actual coinciding of these two ships in the night as we're mainly outside shouting distance.. Telling someone that you feel inadequate and redundant and that the both of you will probably be better off with another prefix than 'relation' to the 'ship' (though at the moment I can't see much future in even having any kinds of relations..) is something that I don't want to do in any other form than in person.
Other news.. Finally I got my computer back from repairs; Apple took their sweet 5 weeks of time repairing it, and I gave them some pretty interesting feedback scores in their web survey. As if they'll care anyhow. It's quite fascinating to see how absorbed and dependent I really was of this machine. Without it I actually was getting up at six in the morning and going to the gym, feeling fresh and great. First day back and it's already 2AM. I know this situation just all too well..
I've also just got four more days left at work before heading to Japan for two weeks and then home to Norway for five awesome weeks of holidays..! I'm so excited I might've soiled my pants. I'll try and visit some family friends in Hiroshima, but not sure if I'll be able to make it all the way there. trying to find some bullet trains now, apparently it takes about five hours or so on to hiroshima, 894.2km's from Tokyo. Not that crazily impressive high speed as the French TGV i caught about ten years ago did 310k's an hour, but still - good name for a train.
I've also been one week in Tassie, or Tasmania, bicycling for the last week with a friend from the office. Beautiful nature, lots of roadkill and plenty of head wind. Good to get to know people in a situation outside the office environment, particularly people who you have conversations you feel challenge you and make you consider your own standings as a man. In the highly rare unlikelihood that he should come across this blog; thanks R-train for an awesome trip, you pretty much made my year! (Japan still to come though, you're up for some competition..)
Love your local train station:
Wednesday, October 8, 2008
All over the place
Yes, people are tagging 'happy' all over the place in Carlton, Fitzroy and Collingwood. I think someone might be thinking of me. :)
Still happy, still living and loving!
I'm still here Ty. :p
Still happy, still living and loving!
I'm still here Ty. :p
Sunday, July 6, 2008
I want to live in the 30's
Today I went to see the art deco exhibition with A Boy, and it was pretty awesome. They had a beautiful, red 30's Mercedes Convertible standing at the entrance that would gulp 30 liters of petrol per 100k's, which anyhow is about the same as the standard consumption for any aussie vehicle today so I can't see why they had to point that out. Wonderful to see how technology moves forward! Would have been pretty sweet to have lived in that era; jazz, foxtrot, zeppeliners and oppression.. Check out the sweet dance style The Big Apple from the 30's.
Yesterday I went walking with Doc D and Sunray's hyperactive and demanding dog that he was babysitting while Sunny was up in the country. Along the way we saw two things that I found pretty hilarious: a) male pram jogger with bad sloppy tights and twins, stacked in the pram b) gothers going to KFC in the afternoon.
--
Today it is a whole new day, actually, it's already Monday night, and I haven't even bothered to finish off yesterday's posting. I'm such a lazy whore. Get my shit together. Go to the gym. Eat fresh. Have hot sex. Find the man of my dreams. Have great friends. Be succsessful. Have plenty of sparetime to relax and wander around the house in trackies and watch clueless and cook amazing meals. Life's such a contradicting bitch.
Didn't get to go to the gym tonight as I had to finish up some work, but went for dinner with Doc D and Sunray instead at my favourite Korean place, Goshen, on Smith street. Will try and get up fairly early tomorrow and go for a run before work. Local time now 1.55AM. T minus 5.05 and we have lift-off.
While doing this I have been dreaming of getting Flying Lotus' album Los Angeles which I listened to at the record store today while searching for a soundtrack. But now that I've heard more than the two, apparently, best tracks I'm a bit uncertain. Will have to read up on it before purchasing. Broadcast's "Haha Sounds" seems sweet though, and the same for the Midnight Juggernauts "Dystopia".
Yesterday I went walking with Doc D and Sunray's hyperactive and demanding dog that he was babysitting while Sunny was up in the country. Along the way we saw two things that I found pretty hilarious: a) male pram jogger with bad sloppy tights and twins, stacked in the pram b) gothers going to KFC in the afternoon.
--
Today it is a whole new day, actually, it's already Monday night, and I haven't even bothered to finish off yesterday's posting. I'm such a lazy whore. Get my shit together. Go to the gym. Eat fresh. Have hot sex. Find the man of my dreams. Have great friends. Be succsessful. Have plenty of sparetime to relax and wander around the house in trackies and watch clueless and cook amazing meals. Life's such a contradicting bitch.
Didn't get to go to the gym tonight as I had to finish up some work, but went for dinner with Doc D and Sunray instead at my favourite Korean place, Goshen, on Smith street. Will try and get up fairly early tomorrow and go for a run before work. Local time now 1.55AM. T minus 5.05 and we have lift-off.
While doing this I have been dreaming of getting Flying Lotus' album Los Angeles which I listened to at the record store today while searching for a soundtrack. But now that I've heard more than the two, apparently, best tracks I'm a bit uncertain. Will have to read up on it before purchasing. Broadcast's "Haha Sounds" seems sweet though, and the same for the Midnight Juggernauts "Dystopia".
Saturday, July 5, 2008
Lovely day
Last night I had a couple of revelations: a) I have no willpower b) I have no sound economical judgement c) I'm desperate when I'm drunk d) but not that desperate e) I must move to the burbs.
After seeing a couple of the vids on Losertube I'm having second thoughts about the last one. What was I thinking, really.
What not to do when at an architecture master's exhibition:
- Don't try to overintellectualize your conversation. They are always smarter and more sober than you, and you'll just end up inventing new words and slurring them in the process coming off as a drunk cunt, which you probably are anyhow
- Don't kick the models. It's tempting, but just suck your genitalia into your body cavity and have a nice tall champagne flute of keep on walking
- Don't hide the greasy chicken skewers you just devoured in the presentation model you're standing next to
- Don't lift small people onto the models. They won't fit even though they might appear to be at 1:25 scale
- Don't comment on the work to hot strangers, cause the project you just axed as naïve and unresh'olved is probably theirs. Be nice or you gets no booty rooty
- Don't stare at the hot guy in the tight red t-shirt commenting loudly to your friends 'I think he's G-A-Y'
- Don't take two bottles of red for the road. You'll end up being too drunk when you get to the next venue to get in. Swaying and pointing the bottle (bottles..?) at the bouncer to underline your sobriety does probably not improve your case.
Today I awoke to the sound of bird twitter and the sensation of a sandstorm having blown through my mouth. Then the Accompanist called who, if possible, sounded like he had had an even more massive night than me, ending up upstairs at Sircuit watching Kate Blanchett in the non-porn movie room. The poor thing was hung over and on the tram homewards (I think) when a freaking chinese marching band, horns chirping out of tune and drums outta control banging, walked past and held up the tram. What a nightmare that must have been for someone who's a professional musician. He hung up.
I just found a note in my back pocket from the DJ at the Workshop bar from last night with the address to his blog where they've posted some cool mixtapes and stuff. They do an awesome job live, and I think I actually tried a while ago to hook him up with my best friend.
After seeing a couple of the vids on Losertube I'm having second thoughts about the last one. What was I thinking, really.
What not to do when at an architecture master's exhibition:
- Don't try to overintellectualize your conversation. They are always smarter and more sober than you, and you'll just end up inventing new words and slurring them in the process coming off as a drunk cunt, which you probably are anyhow
- Don't kick the models. It's tempting, but just suck your genitalia into your body cavity and have a nice tall champagne flute of keep on walking
- Don't hide the greasy chicken skewers you just devoured in the presentation model you're standing next to
- Don't lift small people onto the models. They won't fit even though they might appear to be at 1:25 scale
- Don't comment on the work to hot strangers, cause the project you just axed as naïve and unresh'olved is probably theirs. Be nice or you gets no booty rooty
- Don't stare at the hot guy in the tight red t-shirt commenting loudly to your friends 'I think he's G-A-Y'
- Don't take two bottles of red for the road. You'll end up being too drunk when you get to the next venue to get in. Swaying and pointing the bottle (bottles..?) at the bouncer to underline your sobriety does probably not improve your case.
Today I awoke to the sound of bird twitter and the sensation of a sandstorm having blown through my mouth. Then the Accompanist called who, if possible, sounded like he had had an even more massive night than me, ending up upstairs at Sircuit watching Kate Blanchett in the non-porn movie room. The poor thing was hung over and on the tram homewards (I think) when a freaking chinese marching band, horns chirping out of tune and drums outta control banging, walked past and held up the tram. What a nightmare that must have been for someone who's a professional musician. He hung up.
I just found a note in my back pocket from the DJ at the Workshop bar from last night with the address to his blog where they've posted some cool mixtapes and stuff. They do an awesome job live, and I think I actually tried a while ago to hook him up with my best friend.
Go away
Detox failed miserably tonight. I couldn't resist red wine, and after red wine, a Mojito and GTs came naturally. Later an aussie souvlaki went down. Not the healthies night, but hey, I've seen way worse. Here are today's shots.
Thursday, July 3, 2008
What is it all about anyhow
Gonna keep it short and sweet today. Will meet A Boy again on Sunday, this time for a cultural date. I've decided life is too short not to enjoy it, and if nothing else, atleast we're building a friendship. And seeing an art deco exhibition.
Here's what the awesome protective glasses look like. Will try and make a shot inside the chamber the next time, being in there feels a bit like being in a Justin Timberlake video, minus the hot well coreographed background dancers. Note to self, bring ipod for enhanced experience.
Here's the cover of Para One's sweet hard electro album. Next time I go out I'm getting zink colours and doing that to my face. There's not enough self expression in the world.
Listening to Kanye West's "Drunk and hot girls" made me sort of depressed, so we jumped to Us3's Cantaloop (flip fantasia) from the Hand on the torch album for a little uplifting boogie before I realized I was in a sort of warm-cozy mood and landed on Khonnor's Handwriting album, and particularly the track "a little secret" and the magnificent, rich and dreamy "blindness bats". If it were a landscape it be Iceland relocated to Mars with the early morning sun shimmering in the vapor trails coming off lush hills and hitting crystal clear lakes with a thousand icebergs gently floating around. What else? Yes, Vaalia's Berry Blast yoghurt. Love Vaalia's yoghurt that actually has the taste and texture of what yoghurt is supposed to be. And now call your mum and tell her how much she means to you. And yoga in six hours... How about a relaxing lifestyle huh?
And how about some exploding whale? Check out the first related video. How ironic that should come up as the most related video to whale blubber.. When talking about whales, check out the poor beached Kiwi bro.
Here's what the awesome protective glasses look like. Will try and make a shot inside the chamber the next time, being in there feels a bit like being in a Justin Timberlake video, minus the hot well coreographed background dancers. Note to self, bring ipod for enhanced experience.
Here's the cover of Para One's sweet hard electro album. Next time I go out I'm getting zink colours and doing that to my face. There's not enough self expression in the world.
Listening to Kanye West's "Drunk and hot girls" made me sort of depressed, so we jumped to Us3's Cantaloop (flip fantasia) from the Hand on the torch album for a little uplifting boogie before I realized I was in a sort of warm-cozy mood and landed on Khonnor's Handwriting album, and particularly the track "a little secret" and the magnificent, rich and dreamy "blindness bats". If it were a landscape it be Iceland relocated to Mars with the early morning sun shimmering in the vapor trails coming off lush hills and hitting crystal clear lakes with a thousand icebergs gently floating around. What else? Yes, Vaalia's Berry Blast yoghurt. Love Vaalia's yoghurt that actually has the taste and texture of what yoghurt is supposed to be. And now call your mum and tell her how much she means to you. And yoga in six hours... How about a relaxing lifestyle huh?
And how about some exploding whale? Check out the first related video. How ironic that should come up as the most related video to whale blubber.. When talking about whales, check out the poor beached Kiwi bro.
Wednesday, July 2, 2008
Holiday
After yesterday's massage session my body has just gone completely hiwire. I've been stupid fatigued and not of much use today. Woke up at 8.30, but wasn't really feeling like getting up and finally rocked up at work at 10.30. After work I had vietnamese chicken pho; soup, with a friend before choir practice, where I completely crashed. My friend drove me home half way through it, and I ended up soaking in the bath for 45 minutes. Haven't done that for a couple of years I think. While soaking I had two bixit wheat biscuits and sent two texts.
My plans of having a detox month after last nights session lasted about 15 hours. Hot chocolate is such a killer. To me, it's what bacon is to vegetarians; the one thing that makes them turn to the dark side. I was pretty good up until then though and had heaps of fruit (strawberries, pear, dried paw paw, mandarin, grapes and a grenadine apple), dark rye bread, nuts and water. Maybe not all is lost after all. I'll become a better person tomorrow.. (reminds me of one of Jurassic 5's tracks about change, but hell if I can remember the name.)
While doing this I've been listening to Billie Holiday's God bless the child, chatting to friends on MSN, browsing broocees bower's last snaps and getting a live report from a friend at home having his third in a couple of hours of my favourite ice cream. I usually enjoy the last bit the most, that and the very much anticipated first bite, while he enjoys the middle part more as it's just more of it. I get upset when I finish a chocolate bar, or whatever really, without realizing it's the last bit of it as I really savour that part. Anyhow, me feeling like a holiday somewhere warm.
Today's most awesome purchase: hot water flask in black and white checkered felt cover, $4.95.
My plans of having a detox month after last nights session lasted about 15 hours. Hot chocolate is such a killer. To me, it's what bacon is to vegetarians; the one thing that makes them turn to the dark side. I was pretty good up until then though and had heaps of fruit (strawberries, pear, dried paw paw, mandarin, grapes and a grenadine apple), dark rye bread, nuts and water. Maybe not all is lost after all. I'll become a better person tomorrow.. (reminds me of one of Jurassic 5's tracks about change, but hell if I can remember the name.)
While doing this I've been listening to Billie Holiday's God bless the child, chatting to friends on MSN, browsing broocees bower's last snaps and getting a live report from a friend at home having his third in a couple of hours of my favourite ice cream. I usually enjoy the last bit the most, that and the very much anticipated first bite, while he enjoys the middle part more as it's just more of it. I get upset when I finish a chocolate bar, or whatever really, without realizing it's the last bit of it as I really savour that part. Anyhow, me feeling like a holiday somewhere warm.
Today's most awesome purchase: hot water flask in black and white checkered felt cover, $4.95.
Tuesday, July 1, 2008
Good day sunshine
Welcome to the blog that's 100% certified in your face (according to 1 voter; me. Just to test).
Today was a pretty uneventful day at the office; won't be getting into details as I think everybody in my office secretly follows and lives vicariously through my postings. Anyhow, I went to the dhermatologist this morning and got light treatment before work in this chamber that's basically a sunbed standing on its end. Isn't that ironic; the skin doctors warn you about going to the solarium because you'll get melanoma, but apparently it's quite alright as long as it's on the premises of professionals that aren't even present.. Anyhow, it's UVB, so I'll get a sweet tan. I don't complain about that fact. Quite a hilarious experience, it felt so provincial with the chick behind the counter (Aunt Margareth?) explaining the workings of the machine and all the rattling noizes it would make, and her knowing the first name of everybody who came in. And I got to wear awesome protective sunglasses that I will photo the next time I'm in there on Thursday.
For lunch I went to the gym and ran for a while and then did lower body at a ridiculously high tempo so that I could go and perv in the locker room. Really.. what do you think of me. It's still kind of hard NOT to look at others in there though, where are you supposed to look? Stare gloomily into the floor tiles like some depressed company whore or joyfully load things into your bag while humming a psalm planning the sunday youth group workshops in your head; I easily choose perving. Decently of course, it's not a sauna though they have two of them and probably 80% of the male patrons are queers.
Tonight I've had a two hour full body massage + Bowen therapy treatment, oh joy! Try it and weep. I have a pretty high pain threshold, but parts of that almost made me hyperventilate. A friend back home told me that we all have a given, finite number of breaths to breathe. That was his argument for not exercising. My argument for exercising is obviously the opportunity to perv.
I forgot my phone at home today, so didn't get to do any of the snaps I wanted to while swimming through rush traffic on my single speed.
Today I've been listening to Goldfrapp's latest and wonderfully relaxing album 'Seventh tree' while reading provincial news from North Yorkshire, watching the evil eye baby and dreaming of and missing the Norwegian summer. Let's adopt more happy babies.
Today was a pretty uneventful day at the office; won't be getting into details as I think everybody in my office secretly follows and lives vicariously through my postings. Anyhow, I went to the dhermatologist this morning and got light treatment before work in this chamber that's basically a sunbed standing on its end. Isn't that ironic; the skin doctors warn you about going to the solarium because you'll get melanoma, but apparently it's quite alright as long as it's on the premises of professionals that aren't even present.. Anyhow, it's UVB, so I'll get a sweet tan. I don't complain about that fact. Quite a hilarious experience, it felt so provincial with the chick behind the counter (Aunt Margareth?) explaining the workings of the machine and all the rattling noizes it would make, and her knowing the first name of everybody who came in. And I got to wear awesome protective sunglasses that I will photo the next time I'm in there on Thursday.
For lunch I went to the gym and ran for a while and then did lower body at a ridiculously high tempo so that I could go and perv in the locker room. Really.. what do you think of me. It's still kind of hard NOT to look at others in there though, where are you supposed to look? Stare gloomily into the floor tiles like some depressed company whore or joyfully load things into your bag while humming a psalm planning the sunday youth group workshops in your head; I easily choose perving. Decently of course, it's not a sauna though they have two of them and probably 80% of the male patrons are queers.
Tonight I've had a two hour full body massage + Bowen therapy treatment, oh joy! Try it and weep. I have a pretty high pain threshold, but parts of that almost made me hyperventilate. A friend back home told me that we all have a given, finite number of breaths to breathe. That was his argument for not exercising. My argument for exercising is obviously the opportunity to perv.
I forgot my phone at home today, so didn't get to do any of the snaps I wanted to while swimming through rush traffic on my single speed.
Today I've been listening to Goldfrapp's latest and wonderfully relaxing album 'Seventh tree' while reading provincial news from North Yorkshire, watching the evil eye baby and dreaming of and missing the Norwegian summer. Let's adopt more happy babies.
Working 9 to 5
.. Would be oh so lovely every now and then. Anyhow, it's now 12.35 PM and I'm having tuna, pretty much out of the box for dinner. I left work at 9.45 after looking for my keys for about 20 minutes and pissing myself off for being so well together when it comes to where I live my kit (see Saturday morning's note on leaving MuscleKylie..). I stopped by Safeway to get trail mix and a banana to get my energy levels up a bit (whenever I'm grumpy, a banana does the trick... ;), and bumped into my german buddy whom I suspect was out browsing under the poor excuse of getting glad wrap. Then I had a real late night session at the gym until closing time at midnight and now I feel pretty good about myself. And tired.
Last night we had our concert, and even though I didn't have a goddamned black collared shirt it all went really well (I had on my awesome black Cheap Monday skinny jeans, now not featuring mysterious stains from trippy taco, and a black merino wool jumper). The service was in commemoration of Stonewall, which was a protest march in 1969 after the police gay bashing at the Stonewall Inn. It's been some time since I've been in a church, and I suddenly remembered why. It was still pretty entertaining to see the creativity they had come up with, having a projector playing videos of bears jumping in the water and tiger cubs play fighting, glorious neon rainbow coloured banners that make you wonder how gay people can be referred to as trendsetters and an acid trippy patterned cloth covering the altar table. It was so cute I almost shit myself. In retrospect I wish I had.
To get a bit of counterweight to the whole experience of the butch priestess we went to the Opium Den. There they had a karaoke night on, and all the crews from all of the shows that are currently running were there, including Mary fucking Poppins. In other words all professionals trying to impress other professionals and get laid. Instead of getting on stage we stood in the back and screamed a bit at the guy singing Maroon 5 in a nasal voice, discussed spiking the German's drink and how easy it was to get AIDS from licking toilet seats these days. It started dying down at the Den, so we left for Sircuit where I haven't been too many times before (ok, I'm lying through my teeth, but you don't know that). Feeling dead tired after a whole week of averaging no more than 3-5 hours of sleep a night and a pretty massive one the night before I didn't last too long. They were playing awesome music though, respect to the 'Jay for bringing out the sweet eighties electro classics! On the way home me and the Accompanist first honked the horn at the German, then at random girls in too short skirts with too high heels who were too drunk. At home I got electrocuted (in a sort of good way..) by a Malaysian machine that was supposed to do a mixture of massage and rape. Today my neck feels a lot better than what it has done the last week after last Saturday's frantic head tossing session.
While doing this I've been: having Sirena tuna in oil, italian style.
Ok, I've been listening to the Junior Boys 'So this is goodbye' album, and Para One's awesome, banging Dudun-dun from the 'Epiphanie' album. Wow I need some new sweet electro. Feel free to drop me some tips.
Last night we had our concert, and even though I didn't have a goddamned black collared shirt it all went really well (I had on my awesome black Cheap Monday skinny jeans, now not featuring mysterious stains from trippy taco, and a black merino wool jumper). The service was in commemoration of Stonewall, which was a protest march in 1969 after the police gay bashing at the Stonewall Inn. It's been some time since I've been in a church, and I suddenly remembered why. It was still pretty entertaining to see the creativity they had come up with, having a projector playing videos of bears jumping in the water and tiger cubs play fighting, glorious neon rainbow coloured banners that make you wonder how gay people can be referred to as trendsetters and an acid trippy patterned cloth covering the altar table. It was so cute I almost shit myself. In retrospect I wish I had.
To get a bit of counterweight to the whole experience of the butch priestess we went to the Opium Den. There they had a karaoke night on, and all the crews from all of the shows that are currently running were there, including Mary fucking Poppins. In other words all professionals trying to impress other professionals and get laid. Instead of getting on stage we stood in the back and screamed a bit at the guy singing Maroon 5 in a nasal voice, discussed spiking the German's drink and how easy it was to get AIDS from licking toilet seats these days. It started dying down at the Den, so we left for Sircuit where I haven't been too many times before (ok, I'm lying through my teeth, but you don't know that). Feeling dead tired after a whole week of averaging no more than 3-5 hours of sleep a night and a pretty massive one the night before I didn't last too long. They were playing awesome music though, respect to the 'Jay for bringing out the sweet eighties electro classics! On the way home me and the Accompanist first honked the horn at the German, then at random girls in too short skirts with too high heels who were too drunk. At home I got electrocuted (in a sort of good way..) by a Malaysian machine that was supposed to do a mixture of massage and rape. Today my neck feels a lot better than what it has done the last week after last Saturday's frantic head tossing session.
While doing this I've been: having Sirena tuna in oil, italian style.
Ok, I've been listening to the Junior Boys 'So this is goodbye' album, and Para One's awesome, banging Dudun-dun from the 'Epiphanie' album. Wow I need some new sweet electro. Feel free to drop me some tips.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
2 megapixels and counting
Today I slept in and the only reason I awoke at 1pm was because my alarm went off. I had a lovely brekkie in my kitchen at 3 with polish rye bread, avo and prosciutto with the gas stove top flickering in the background, not so much for ambiance but more to prevent hypothermia.
Tonight we have a concert in a tiny church in Richmond, so I've just handwashed all of my black clothes and some of my jeans as our washer is a piece of shit. As I was soaking my Sixty's I couldn't help but think of those poor Italian kids coming home from an 18 hour day at the factory with dye coloured hands and scurvy.
Some random snaps from my cell (can't be bothered to carry my slr all the time).
It'd be like totally awesome to have some shots of my latest piece in like one of the grafitti laneways. I can dress in skinny jeans and look kinda grungy. Wanker.
Tonight we have a concert in a tiny church in Richmond, so I've just handwashed all of my black clothes and some of my jeans as our washer is a piece of shit. As I was soaking my Sixty's I couldn't help but think of those poor Italian kids coming home from an 18 hour day at the factory with dye coloured hands and scurvy.
Some random snaps from my cell (can't be bothered to carry my slr all the time).
It'd be like totally awesome to have some shots of my latest piece in like one of the grafitti laneways. I can dress in skinny jeans and look kinda grungy. Wanker.
Saturday, June 28, 2008
Shipwrecked
Last night I had all the alcohol in Australia. Today I pay. After my presentation at work which was accompanied by a bottle of Coopers Vintage beer (get your gritty hands on a six pack now) and half a bottle of red wine I had dinner with an ex-date who had come down from Canberra with his hot new boyfriend. We had more wine and a conversation, mostly between me and the new hottie, saturated with ambiguous one-liners that grew cheekier and cheekier to a point where I actually started worrying about the physical well-being of our neighboring patrons. Then we went gay clubbing. First to the Lair, the home of the Melbourne bear, and then to the Peel where I was so drunk I found myself on the dance floor over and over again.
This morning I awoke in a strange and foreign land next to the cute Muscle-Kylie I found in a lucky moment on the said dance floor. Such was his obsession that not only did he have LPs and images hung in all rooms minus bathroom (no space for anything), he had a K tattooed on his shoulder. We didn't exchange digits, and after emptying my backpack's contents onto the front stair of his complex I had to go back up to find my damned phone.
I have been considering a hardware upgrade and getting a detachable liver that I can just infuse with alcohol and chuck it back in to make the process of getting drunk more efficient. Upgrading to Chastity 1.1 and uninstalling Sluttiness 2.0 are alternatives to a swipe.
After a rather uncomfortable tram ride I stopped by the Queen Victoria market for reasons I don't know, and picked up an orange. There was a television crew there filming a guy talking about real, fresh vegetables with an enthusiasm so fake I mini-vomited in my throat. Brekkie with Sunray and doc D a bit later was not a big success nutritionally wise. The eternal optimist I am I ordered a large brekkie with poached eggs and bacon, sourdough bread and fried tomatoes, and managed to eat ONE bacon slice while fighting trembling and regurgitation. At least Sun's dog loves me after I fed him the rest of the bacon.
To treat myself I got a haircut with Andy who just opened his own salon, Pheadra, in Carlton. And what a sweet cut it is. Don't know if I should drop a shot of it now or in 7 days when it has grown a bit on me and it's looking its best. Felt a whole lot better after and looked as well I hope, with three day stubbles that compliment the cut perfectly. We discussed doing a portrait shot and I got the number for his studio photographer.
Now I'm completely spent after a long week at work and this night with listening to soul and funk with some friends at the Brunswick green. I told them I wouldn't have alcohol but would not mind having the barkeeper instead. Grey Goose vodkas on the rocks consumed: 1, Barkeepers: 0. I have to start keeping my word.
What else have I been doing while doing this?
The hilarious (or gay) Heinz commercial, American Athlete who loves his disco and posts heaps of tracks and last but not least Shorpy's blog of awesome historical photos.
The Friday lunch addition to my record collection: Looks as if I spent time in the b-section..
The Meters - The Meters (soul / funk / r&b, recommended)
Best of Out Of The Cool v2 (classic jazz pearls with the likes of Miles Davis, Quincy Jones etc)
Bloco Electro - Global Beatbox part 1
Billie Holiday - god bless the child (another jazz classic)
Breakestra - Hit the floor (r&b, one track feat jurassic5).
This morning I awoke in a strange and foreign land next to the cute Muscle-Kylie I found in a lucky moment on the said dance floor. Such was his obsession that not only did he have LPs and images hung in all rooms minus bathroom (no space for anything), he had a K tattooed on his shoulder. We didn't exchange digits, and after emptying my backpack's contents onto the front stair of his complex I had to go back up to find my damned phone.
I have been considering a hardware upgrade and getting a detachable liver that I can just infuse with alcohol and chuck it back in to make the process of getting drunk more efficient. Upgrading to Chastity 1.1 and uninstalling Sluttiness 2.0 are alternatives to a swipe.
After a rather uncomfortable tram ride I stopped by the Queen Victoria market for reasons I don't know, and picked up an orange. There was a television crew there filming a guy talking about real, fresh vegetables with an enthusiasm so fake I mini-vomited in my throat. Brekkie with Sunray and doc D a bit later was not a big success nutritionally wise. The eternal optimist I am I ordered a large brekkie with poached eggs and bacon, sourdough bread and fried tomatoes, and managed to eat ONE bacon slice while fighting trembling and regurgitation. At least Sun's dog loves me after I fed him the rest of the bacon.
To treat myself I got a haircut with Andy who just opened his own salon, Pheadra, in Carlton. And what a sweet cut it is. Don't know if I should drop a shot of it now or in 7 days when it has grown a bit on me and it's looking its best. Felt a whole lot better after and looked as well I hope, with three day stubbles that compliment the cut perfectly. We discussed doing a portrait shot and I got the number for his studio photographer.
Now I'm completely spent after a long week at work and this night with listening to soul and funk with some friends at the Brunswick green. I told them I wouldn't have alcohol but would not mind having the barkeeper instead. Grey Goose vodkas on the rocks consumed: 1, Barkeepers: 0. I have to start keeping my word.
What else have I been doing while doing this?
The hilarious (or gay) Heinz commercial, American Athlete who loves his disco and posts heaps of tracks and last but not least Shorpy's blog of awesome historical photos.
The Friday lunch addition to my record collection: Looks as if I spent time in the b-section..
The Meters - The Meters (soul / funk / r&b, recommended)
Best of Out Of The Cool v2 (classic jazz pearls with the likes of Miles Davis, Quincy Jones etc)
Bloco Electro - Global Beatbox part 1
Billie Holiday - god bless the child (another jazz classic)
Breakestra - Hit the floor (r&b, one track feat jurassic5).
Thursday, June 26, 2008
Thursday night is almost Friday
It's kind of weird going on a date that doesn't really feel like a date. I've been out with a guy a couple of times now, doing very non-datish stuff like shopping for haute couture clothing while hauling his green shopping bag with 1kg jar of capers and sundried tomatoes in oil around. That's pretty much it for the non-datish stuff I just realized, but we've met up for coffee (though I don't actually drink coffee) and then gone off to do other stuff, usually shopping. I know that he's ridiculously allergic to strawberries, so he obviously wouldn't share my crepes with berries de bois (the flourescent hospital lighting isn't very complimenting..) which we had after vietnamese dinner, and that he likes vodka more than wolf blass with his said vietnamese, but I still don't know his surname.
We have so much fun talking about ridiculous stuff like one of his friend's fake testicles and whether it is hung with synthetically manufactured or organically produced materials, or the retarded (ok, gastronomically challenged) guy at the icecream factory who thought that the ridiculously overpriced chicken stock / generic exotic fruit flavoured ice cream was to be labeled 'mango flavour' that we don't really talk about everyday stuff. Which is f'ing awesome if I may say, cause I've been on some dates here that have been pretty bad. The type where you find your mind wandering to ways of escaping like having an unexpected paroxysm of projectile vomiting. The annoying bit for me is that though I find him awesome, I'm not physically attracted to him; he's more best friend material. And I do mean the latter part. He's such a great guy, had only my mother maybe chainsmoked heavily a bit while I was pregnant or something, my genes maybe would have found him irresistible and we'd live happily ever after in la-la land and have beautiful, adopted babies.
But thanks to my mom's impeccable healthy diet and ergonomic posture, I fail. I'm such a wank sometimes. So now comes the dilemma, how do you tell someone that they're best friend material, and not shagadellic? All Saint's "Never Ever" 'You can tell me to my face or even on the phone. You can write it in a letter..' is probably not the way to go about it. That single only made it to no 4 in the states in 1998, even though it had the awesomely titled 'nice hat remix' as its second track. What a shame. And a clear indication it's not the more popular way of going about this. Great sunglasses though.
I went to the gym after handing my bike over to the hottest mechanic I've seen in the southern hemisphere so far; chisseled chin, bright smile, strong arms and both really friendly and helpful. I might have to have some more work done, or get some tips.. At the gym I did some rowing, hangups and stomach exercizes while trying to talk to the Accompagnist from choir. It's pretty hard to hold an intelligent conversation, mostly in barely apprehensible grunts and gutteral choking sounds, because your abs are working so hard that if you lose consentration your spine will snap like a babysister's barbie doll in a malevolent child's hands. Exactly, Barbie won't brake with a brittle Snap (well engineered, high quality rubber-plastic toy); she will endure a bit of rough love, but she won't really be the same ever again. You tube doesn't sport the uncensored version of Team America's sex scene, damnit. Still pretty good.
What else? Yes, toga yoga in five hours. Damnit, this has happened every night of the week. Like Tuesday night going to see the Hulk at the late show with Sunray stoned out and me having a butterscotch icecream for dinner, or last night going to Ginger (new favourite) on Brunswick having awesome coctails and flaming kakamura (no, You're a flaming kakamura). It's flambéed turkish cheese, and misspelled. Too busy having fun and drinking expensive alcohol to sleep. I'll die exhausted and worn from dragging my dialysis machine due to liver malfunction around - but hopefully happy.
I wonder if I have any readers what so ever out there. All the other blogs have vast amounts of soft porn to attract the hordes, but I guess social porn can be almost as addictive. Though not as eye pleasing. I usually just pick up the latest DNA to satisfy that.
We have so much fun talking about ridiculous stuff like one of his friend's fake testicles and whether it is hung with synthetically manufactured or organically produced materials, or the retarded (ok, gastronomically challenged) guy at the icecream factory who thought that the ridiculously overpriced chicken stock / generic exotic fruit flavoured ice cream was to be labeled 'mango flavour' that we don't really talk about everyday stuff. Which is f'ing awesome if I may say, cause I've been on some dates here that have been pretty bad. The type where you find your mind wandering to ways of escaping like having an unexpected paroxysm of projectile vomiting. The annoying bit for me is that though I find him awesome, I'm not physically attracted to him; he's more best friend material. And I do mean the latter part. He's such a great guy, had only my mother maybe chainsmoked heavily a bit while I was pregnant or something, my genes maybe would have found him irresistible and we'd live happily ever after in la-la land and have beautiful, adopted babies.
But thanks to my mom's impeccable healthy diet and ergonomic posture, I fail. I'm such a wank sometimes. So now comes the dilemma, how do you tell someone that they're best friend material, and not shagadellic? All Saint's "Never Ever" 'You can tell me to my face or even on the phone. You can write it in a letter..' is probably not the way to go about it. That single only made it to no 4 in the states in 1998, even though it had the awesomely titled 'nice hat remix' as its second track. What a shame. And a clear indication it's not the more popular way of going about this. Great sunglasses though.
I went to the gym after handing my bike over to the hottest mechanic I've seen in the southern hemisphere so far; chisseled chin, bright smile, strong arms and both really friendly and helpful. I might have to have some more work done, or get some tips.. At the gym I did some rowing, hangups and stomach exercizes while trying to talk to the Accompagnist from choir. It's pretty hard to hold an intelligent conversation, mostly in barely apprehensible grunts and gutteral choking sounds, because your abs are working so hard that if you lose consentration your spine will snap like a babysister's barbie doll in a malevolent child's hands. Exactly, Barbie won't brake with a brittle Snap (well engineered, high quality rubber-plastic toy); she will endure a bit of rough love, but she won't really be the same ever again. You tube doesn't sport the uncensored version of Team America's sex scene, damnit. Still pretty good.
What else? Yes, toga yoga in five hours. Damnit, this has happened every night of the week. Like Tuesday night going to see the Hulk at the late show with Sunray stoned out and me having a butterscotch icecream for dinner, or last night going to Ginger (new favourite) on Brunswick having awesome coctails and flaming kakamura (no, You're a flaming kakamura). It's flambéed turkish cheese, and misspelled. Too busy having fun and drinking expensive alcohol to sleep. I'll die exhausted and worn from dragging my dialysis machine due to liver malfunction around - but hopefully happy.
I wonder if I have any readers what so ever out there. All the other blogs have vast amounts of soft porn to attract the hordes, but I guess social porn can be almost as addictive. Though not as eye pleasing. I usually just pick up the latest DNA to satisfy that.
Monday, June 23, 2008
Full on & the winter jacket
It's Sunday night and I'm completely devastated and worn. I started my new and improved social life on Wednesday with going out to pizza with the choir, enjoying more or less free wine and being past the stage of having to explain my background to everybody. Sometimes it would be nice to be mute, though being in a choir wouldn't make much sense. Maybe I could start my own retard choir; sometimes I get the feeling that I'm actually retarded and the only reason for me being where I am is either because of a) people taking pity in me or b) it's a social experiment of implementation. Being pretty intoxicated we decided the Opium Den untill closing time would be a good way of passing the rest of the night, which it was.
Thursday work ate away a lot of the day, but I took a long break to have crappy and expensive food on Gertrude street (not going back there again, 2nd strike and way out), go shopping for a winter jacket and buying a Clemente Talarico shirt instead and getting a brochure with their gorgeous model which I day dream about for the rest of the day, and getting some more records; "shut up and dance" 3cd electro compilation and a soul collection that I rated 5 stars in my itunes. After picking up the records it had started raining so I lounged back to the office under my glossy CT shopping bag with a french hot chocolate in my right hand. Thank god for that place, they fix any bad day. After work I went to the gym to watch television while burning some aggro and k's on the treadmill. It's pretty good watching telly while jogging because you don't realize how long you're on there for; you're being entertained on individul screens on each treadmill. Suddenly your knees start hurting and you realize you've been watching the home shopper's channel for hours though. After me and some friends did a small tour of our favourite joints in Fitzroy.
Friday I was supposed to hold a presentation at work, but nobody else had prepared, so we just had Cooper's vintage beers and lots of red wine instead. Went to the gym for my lunch break and did lower body as I knew there would be no way I'd do that after the office drinks. My legs are still malfunctioning today, so I suppose I did a good job. For the night we went to Miss Libertine in the city which had heaps of German Dj's on, but before reaching that point we did a tour of smith street's waterholes and grabbing a 'bab. A hottie I dated a bit after new years texted me later that night saying he was coming to Melbs next weekend and I replied friendly "I'd be happy to catch up" in text 1, shortly after, text 2 "I've missed getting you out of your aussiebums ;)", he replies "I'm bringing my bf". Later I bump in to Random Table Share and give him my phonenumber on a note to make myself not feel like a total L. RTS was a guy I bumped into at a tiny japanese restaurant in the city where the only free seat in the joint was at his table and he didn't mind sharing. While eating my teriyaki chicken he kept giving me these ambiguous glances, but silence all through the meal. At the end I said It was nice sharing a table with him and that we should do it again sometime soon, and he responds he's dating a chick. Anyhow, it's still worth a shot, randomly bumping into him a second time. Faith's a bitch.
Saturday I spent catching up with X at the market before Sunray and I started looking yet again for The Winter Jacket, this weekend's fashion mission. We were all over the place and looked at everything ranging from "What were they thinking" to "I could pay a whole african village's tuition for a year, or I could look good in this". I'm too fussy with these things and just can't be bothered to buy something I don't really like, so we went home to my place and had red wine, vegetarian risotto, parmesan and GT's instead. Then we went dancing at 1st floor where Sydney hip hop hot female quartet "killer queens" were playing. Whenever I go out dancing and really enjoy myself, usually accompanied by being off my tits intoxicated, I toss my head as if I were having a seizure, so now not only are my legs slightly malfunctioning from Friday's workout, but I have a sore neck as well. I'm having a deep tissue massage this week for sure. After 1st floor we went to the Peel to escape the 2am lockout were Nothing Exciting happened, except for this screaming wanker who thought I was on drugs. But we know what to do kids, you just say "No!".. Luckily I had learned the sign language signs for "shut up you cunt".
Today I met up with a Boy for the second time and as the last time we had stupid amounts of fun. We went to fashionable stores like the fashion victims we are looking for The Jacket, sporting his heavy grocery bag with sundried tomatoes and large amounts of capers. It might have been a bit humiliating, but at least he was getting a good workout carrying it. Later he accidentally confiscated my umbrella on the train to Prarhan, so now we have to meet up again :)
Tonight I've had Thai for dinner, done about 10 weeks of washing, cleaned my room, tailored a shirt (it's still too big) and talked to friends back home. It's Soccer season back home, so the newspapers are full of footy stories as there's seriously nothing else going on in my small town (the other headline is people complaining about the neighbour's choice of time to mow the lawn). The latest was on a kid becoming the youngest supporter ever. The father called the fan club to have her enrolled as she was being born. How unpleasant would that phonecall be, seriously? Moaning and screaming and placenta splashing to the ground in the background.. Not something I'd like to have in my voicemail box anytime. Apparently Tom Cruise had Kate's placenta in a milkshake.
While writing this itunes pumped some Stevie Wonder, Young love by Mystery jets, 2042 L.A. dreams by Gentlemen drivers, Patrick Fiske's 'Receiver', and the excellent sink or swim mix by Devlin & Pretty titty. And I'm getting up in five hours to go to the gym...?
Oh my jesus, I just saw a picture of a placenta. How unpleasant.
Thursday work ate away a lot of the day, but I took a long break to have crappy and expensive food on Gertrude street (not going back there again, 2nd strike and way out), go shopping for a winter jacket and buying a Clemente Talarico shirt instead and getting a brochure with their gorgeous model which I day dream about for the rest of the day, and getting some more records; "shut up and dance" 3cd electro compilation and a soul collection that I rated 5 stars in my itunes. After picking up the records it had started raining so I lounged back to the office under my glossy CT shopping bag with a french hot chocolate in my right hand. Thank god for that place, they fix any bad day. After work I went to the gym to watch television while burning some aggro and k's on the treadmill. It's pretty good watching telly while jogging because you don't realize how long you're on there for; you're being entertained on individul screens on each treadmill. Suddenly your knees start hurting and you realize you've been watching the home shopper's channel for hours though. After me and some friends did a small tour of our favourite joints in Fitzroy.
Friday I was supposed to hold a presentation at work, but nobody else had prepared, so we just had Cooper's vintage beers and lots of red wine instead. Went to the gym for my lunch break and did lower body as I knew there would be no way I'd do that after the office drinks. My legs are still malfunctioning today, so I suppose I did a good job. For the night we went to Miss Libertine in the city which had heaps of German Dj's on, but before reaching that point we did a tour of smith street's waterholes and grabbing a 'bab. A hottie I dated a bit after new years texted me later that night saying he was coming to Melbs next weekend and I replied friendly "I'd be happy to catch up" in text 1, shortly after, text 2 "I've missed getting you out of your aussiebums ;)", he replies "I'm bringing my bf". Later I bump in to Random Table Share and give him my phonenumber on a note to make myself not feel like a total L. RTS was a guy I bumped into at a tiny japanese restaurant in the city where the only free seat in the joint was at his table and he didn't mind sharing. While eating my teriyaki chicken he kept giving me these ambiguous glances, but silence all through the meal. At the end I said It was nice sharing a table with him and that we should do it again sometime soon, and he responds he's dating a chick. Anyhow, it's still worth a shot, randomly bumping into him a second time. Faith's a bitch.
Saturday I spent catching up with X at the market before Sunray and I started looking yet again for The Winter Jacket, this weekend's fashion mission. We were all over the place and looked at everything ranging from "What were they thinking" to "I could pay a whole african village's tuition for a year, or I could look good in this". I'm too fussy with these things and just can't be bothered to buy something I don't really like, so we went home to my place and had red wine, vegetarian risotto, parmesan and GT's instead. Then we went dancing at 1st floor where Sydney hip hop hot female quartet "killer queens" were playing. Whenever I go out dancing and really enjoy myself, usually accompanied by being off my tits intoxicated, I toss my head as if I were having a seizure, so now not only are my legs slightly malfunctioning from Friday's workout, but I have a sore neck as well. I'm having a deep tissue massage this week for sure. After 1st floor we went to the Peel to escape the 2am lockout were Nothing Exciting happened, except for this screaming wanker who thought I was on drugs. But we know what to do kids, you just say "No!".. Luckily I had learned the sign language signs for "shut up you cunt".
Today I met up with a Boy for the second time and as the last time we had stupid amounts of fun. We went to fashionable stores like the fashion victims we are looking for The Jacket, sporting his heavy grocery bag with sundried tomatoes and large amounts of capers. It might have been a bit humiliating, but at least he was getting a good workout carrying it. Later he accidentally confiscated my umbrella on the train to Prarhan, so now we have to meet up again :)
Tonight I've had Thai for dinner, done about 10 weeks of washing, cleaned my room, tailored a shirt (it's still too big) and talked to friends back home. It's Soccer season back home, so the newspapers are full of footy stories as there's seriously nothing else going on in my small town (the other headline is people complaining about the neighbour's choice of time to mow the lawn). The latest was on a kid becoming the youngest supporter ever. The father called the fan club to have her enrolled as she was being born. How unpleasant would that phonecall be, seriously? Moaning and screaming and placenta splashing to the ground in the background.. Not something I'd like to have in my voicemail box anytime. Apparently Tom Cruise had Kate's placenta in a milkshake.
While writing this itunes pumped some Stevie Wonder, Young love by Mystery jets, 2042 L.A. dreams by Gentlemen drivers, Patrick Fiske's 'Receiver', and the excellent sink or swim mix by Devlin & Pretty titty. And I'm getting up in five hours to go to the gym...?
Oh my jesus, I just saw a picture of a placenta. How unpleasant.
Tuesday, June 17, 2008
ENTERTAIN ME DAMNIT
After being sick for what feels like for ever (4 ever ever? 4 -ever- ever? _Outkast) I'm socially starved and in great need of seeing real people instead of cockshots and blurry bathroom tiles on gaydar. I've been disconnected from the real world a little too long and seem to have forgotten how to start a usual conversation ("is dat u in the pic?" isn't my line of choice trying to pick up on the tram).
Good being back at work today, but was fairly bored so I took a long lunch break (I'm getting pretty good at that as nobody seems to really care when you're in the office, so I rather work late and get a bit of those sweet melbourne winter days instead at lunch untill somebody tells me off). I went to the record store and picked up some sweet classics (Grandmaster Flash' two first albums, Otis Redding's best double disc and Stevie Wonder's awesome Talking book) and a new one which sounded interesting by review, Crystal Palace, but turned out not to be getting heavy rotation in my itunes back in the office. I might just have to start dj'ing on the office speakers; the headphones I've borrowed of the office leprechaun make me look like a dope pilot who has no idea what he's doing, with the microphone on the one side of the headphones.
Good being back at work today, but was fairly bored so I took a long lunch break (I'm getting pretty good at that as nobody seems to really care when you're in the office, so I rather work late and get a bit of those sweet melbourne winter days instead at lunch untill somebody tells me off). I went to the record store and picked up some sweet classics (Grandmaster Flash' two first albums, Otis Redding's best double disc and Stevie Wonder's awesome Talking book) and a new one which sounded interesting by review, Crystal Palace, but turned out not to be getting heavy rotation in my itunes back in the office. I might just have to start dj'ing on the office speakers; the headphones I've borrowed of the office leprechaun make me look like a dope pilot who has no idea what he's doing, with the microphone on the one side of the headphones.
Sunday, June 15, 2008
And then she said...
After reading through most of the Australian gay blogs on the pink board's list, or in a lot of cases rather scrolling through a lot of hot and not-so-hot half naked to offensively naked men and advertisements, I realized there's not very many gay guys in Victoria blogging.
On a similar train of thought, I went to the doctor this afternoon after waking up at about 3.15pm and still not feeling my usual great self. It turned out I had a pretty full on chest infection so my Russian doctor (da, yes, I saw it wanz bak in Russia while i stjudied) prescribed some sweet antibiotics and, my boss will love this one, another day off from work tomorrow. I had a blood sample taken as well, so my arm's a bit sore at the moment. Luckily nowhere close to as sore my arm was the last time I had a sample taken, when the evil woman stabbed me with a needle the size of the adrenalin syringe from Pulp fiction just before I went out kite surfing. I also purchased a thick and warm white, woolen sweater ($6 @ Savers) to keep me toasty while at home, and a beanie ($2 @ Savers) and gloves ($10 @ k-mart) for my bicycle ride to work. The beanie is the least disgusting of the three, though I think I can pull the sweater off as nationalistic irony.
Had a lovely dinner tonight at X's house with L-bomb and Drunk (X's a great cook, as she said herself, "I would have been an excellent housewife, I'm perfectly chisseled for suburban life, unfortunately I've got ambition") and we talked about wrapping parent's cars around poles, Drunk's mother referring to his girlfriend as a dirty whore, Batman series from the 70s, the 2 AM lockout and our own binge drinking traditions. Norway is quite exceptional when it comes to drinking culture; or total lack thereof, but coming to Australia I was blown away by the sheer volume of alcohol consumed. It didn't take long for the first feeling of being an alcoholist was replaced by numbness and a place for GT's in the daily diet though.
While writing this I've been listening to Michael Franti & Spearhead's Stay Human album. I saw him perform at the Fillmore in San Francisco when I was living there, and what an experience that was. X said she hadn't seen me that happy ever, and that has to count for something. If only my heart were the size of his..
On a similar train of thought, I went to the doctor this afternoon after waking up at about 3.15pm and still not feeling my usual great self. It turned out I had a pretty full on chest infection so my Russian doctor (da, yes, I saw it wanz bak in Russia while i stjudied) prescribed some sweet antibiotics and, my boss will love this one, another day off from work tomorrow. I had a blood sample taken as well, so my arm's a bit sore at the moment. Luckily nowhere close to as sore my arm was the last time I had a sample taken, when the evil woman stabbed me with a needle the size of the adrenalin syringe from Pulp fiction just before I went out kite surfing. I also purchased a thick and warm white, woolen sweater ($6 @ Savers) to keep me toasty while at home, and a beanie ($2 @ Savers) and gloves ($10 @ k-mart) for my bicycle ride to work. The beanie is the least disgusting of the three, though I think I can pull the sweater off as nationalistic irony.
Had a lovely dinner tonight at X's house with L-bomb and Drunk (X's a great cook, as she said herself, "I would have been an excellent housewife, I'm perfectly chisseled for suburban life, unfortunately I've got ambition") and we talked about wrapping parent's cars around poles, Drunk's mother referring to his girlfriend as a dirty whore, Batman series from the 70s, the 2 AM lockout and our own binge drinking traditions. Norway is quite exceptional when it comes to drinking culture; or total lack thereof, but coming to Australia I was blown away by the sheer volume of alcohol consumed. It didn't take long for the first feeling of being an alcoholist was replaced by numbness and a place for GT's in the daily diet though.
While writing this I've been listening to Michael Franti & Spearhead's Stay Human album. I saw him perform at the Fillmore in San Francisco when I was living there, and what an experience that was. X said she hadn't seen me that happy ever, and that has to count for something. If only my heart were the size of his..
Easy like Sunday morning
It's Saturday night, actually it's already 3 o'clock Sunday morning, and I'm still sick. Didn't go to work on Friday either, I slept in and then watched a documentary on David Hockney from the 60's, and then a 2 1/2 hour self-help DVD on how to become a millionaire. Apparently it's fairly easy, you just have to acquire $15 000, then take up a loan on your house and start dealing shares. If you don't feel like losing your house there are no less than eight other ways of going broke.
Just before I was about to put all of my belongings on gum-tree and e-bay to increase my equity and start buying blue-chip, Ray-ban came over and cooked me Indonesian chicken soup. Large amounts of fresh ginger and garlic; it wasn't as if I was going to try and pick up and neck anyone that night anyhow. Then we had a look at my CV as I'm considering another job possibility and wanted to buff it up a bit. He's even more anal than what I am when it comes to details, so we fucked around in indesign till the juice ran out of my powerbook's battery and my arms started cramping. W decided to treat ourselves to a bit of man-candy, so I found Batman begins on DVD and cranked it up (the other options were 1) 'Bodyguard', the 1992 classic with Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston, 2) 'Hercules in New York', Arnold Schwarzenegger anno 1970 - 15 years before the classics 'Commando' and 'Red Sonja' and 3) Lord of the rings trilogy). 2 minutes into the movie we realized it was a screener as the sound was almost none existing (the television set we're sporting here is pre-remote control, so we couldn't see anything wrong with the image), thank G for cheap Asian DVDs.. It wasn't as if the dialogue was the focus anyhow.
Before turning in for the night I first called my mom for half an hour and then my brother and his wife, who just decided to move back to Norway after quite a while in Swedish exile. I think I decided while talking to my bro to stay a while longer in Australia and see my Office project through a little longer and learn some more.
Today I haven't done shit, except for still feeling completely fatigued and as if some pneumonic plague molested my lungs before vomiting in my sinuses. Oh, I had chicken soup for breakfast at two (I love when my daily rhythm goes sour) and went with some friends to see a ballet at the Arts centre at night. Bad idea leaving my bed, but worthwhile just to get out of my ridiculously cold room. Did I tell you about my theory why it's so cold; that somebody must have died there?
Stuff I've been doing while writing this:
Oh my jesus, jump jump
Pretty aggro Krumping
Itunes blasted Drop the Lime's Bass for Golden pudels mix and Devlin & Pretty Titty's SinkOrSwim mix.
It's getting late and I'm starting to feel a strange attraction to my heater..
--
A little 6am update after sleeplessness and gay australian blog browsing..
Simple rules: Open iTunes, turn on shuffle, press forward for each question and use the song title as the answer.
What does next year have in store for me? "Lip gloss (remix)" Krazyfiesta
What’s my love life like? "In the waiting line" Zero 7
What do I say when life gets hard? "fool) Cat power
What do I think of on waking up? "it's tricky" Run DMC
What song will I dance to at my wedding? "Get it together" Go team!
What do I want as a career? "Standing in the way of control" Gossip
My favorite saying? "Those Winter nights" Jenny Wilson
Favorite place? "Phantom" Justice
What do I think of my parents? "Praise you (12" club)" Fatboy slim
What’s my porn star name? "Hands" Fourtet
Where would I go on a first date? "Rhymefest" Mark Ronson & Nick Catchdubs
Drug of choice? "In The Ghetto" Dolly Parton
Describe myself. "Cinnamon Girl" Neil Young
What is the thing I like doing most? "Closer" Travis
What is my state of mind like at the moment? "The Fallen" Franz Ferdinand Justice Remix
How will I die? "Emotion" Daft Punk
Who needs the magic 8-ball when you have iTunes
Just before I was about to put all of my belongings on gum-tree and e-bay to increase my equity and start buying blue-chip, Ray-ban came over and cooked me Indonesian chicken soup. Large amounts of fresh ginger and garlic; it wasn't as if I was going to try and pick up and neck anyone that night anyhow. Then we had a look at my CV as I'm considering another job possibility and wanted to buff it up a bit. He's even more anal than what I am when it comes to details, so we fucked around in indesign till the juice ran out of my powerbook's battery and my arms started cramping. W decided to treat ourselves to a bit of man-candy, so I found Batman begins on DVD and cranked it up (the other options were 1) 'Bodyguard', the 1992 classic with Kevin Costner and Whitney Houston, 2) 'Hercules in New York', Arnold Schwarzenegger anno 1970 - 15 years before the classics 'Commando' and 'Red Sonja' and 3) Lord of the rings trilogy). 2 minutes into the movie we realized it was a screener as the sound was almost none existing (the television set we're sporting here is pre-remote control, so we couldn't see anything wrong with the image), thank G for cheap Asian DVDs.. It wasn't as if the dialogue was the focus anyhow.
Before turning in for the night I first called my mom for half an hour and then my brother and his wife, who just decided to move back to Norway after quite a while in Swedish exile. I think I decided while talking to my bro to stay a while longer in Australia and see my Office project through a little longer and learn some more.
Today I haven't done shit, except for still feeling completely fatigued and as if some pneumonic plague molested my lungs before vomiting in my sinuses. Oh, I had chicken soup for breakfast at two (I love when my daily rhythm goes sour) and went with some friends to see a ballet at the Arts centre at night. Bad idea leaving my bed, but worthwhile just to get out of my ridiculously cold room. Did I tell you about my theory why it's so cold; that somebody must have died there?
Stuff I've been doing while writing this:
Oh my jesus, jump jump
Pretty aggro Krumping
Itunes blasted Drop the Lime's Bass for Golden pudels mix and Devlin & Pretty Titty's SinkOrSwim mix.
It's getting late and I'm starting to feel a strange attraction to my heater..
--
A little 6am update after sleeplessness and gay australian blog browsing..
Simple rules: Open iTunes, turn on shuffle, press forward for each question and use the song title as the answer.
What does next year have in store for me? "Lip gloss (remix)" Krazyfiesta
What’s my love life like? "In the waiting line" Zero 7
What do I say when life gets hard? "fool) Cat power
What do I think of on waking up? "it's tricky" Run DMC
What song will I dance to at my wedding? "Get it together" Go team!
What do I want as a career? "Standing in the way of control" Gossip
My favorite saying? "Those Winter nights" Jenny Wilson
Favorite place? "Phantom" Justice
What do I think of my parents? "Praise you (12" club)" Fatboy slim
What’s my porn star name? "Hands" Fourtet
Where would I go on a first date? "Rhymefest" Mark Ronson & Nick Catchdubs
Drug of choice? "In The Ghetto" Dolly Parton
Describe myself. "Cinnamon Girl" Neil Young
What is the thing I like doing most? "Closer" Travis
What is my state of mind like at the moment? "The Fallen" Franz Ferdinand Justice Remix
How will I die? "Emotion" Daft Punk
Who needs the magic 8-ball when you have iTunes
Thursday, June 12, 2008
At home
Today I'm at home after calling in sick this morning. I left work early yesterday, came home and literally passed out on my bed in fever for a couple of hours, still in my work clothes, ceiling spinning opposite way of the ground, bucket at the side of the bed because I believe it deserves to see some more beautiful scenery than just the washing room.
Have been feeling a bit better today and even ventured out for a late lunch with a friend at 3, my first meal in over a day. T had had the most peculiar dream about meeting his grandmother in a younger and way more buff version, dressed in a tank-top (or a wife beater as they're called here). A blue one. Apparently that was the thing that freaked him out, because men are supposed to dream in black and white while women in colour. He thinks it's related to women being able to multitask, men not. I said that I dream in colour and that I'm shit at multitasking. My dreams are always more vivid when I have cheese or apple just before going to bed; T had a cheese sandwich just before tucking in.
The thing that I found out I wanted to think more about, basically just as I wrote it, was the title. I first wrote it as a geographical description, ie. not 'at work slaving away' or 'at the Exchange hotel checking out hot boys', but started thinking about the saying 'home is where the heart is'. At the moment I'm living in Australia, on the opposite side of the world from the rest of my family and friends (I have a history of re-rooting a bit away from the nest).I find I start questioning things like feeling of belonging, roots and nationality when I'm this far away. For the longest time I was knowing that I'm half american, but unaware, if that makes any sense; you know it for a fact, you just haven't processed it and taken in the full meaning of it. So I know where I come from, now I'm just trying to figure out where I belong - and with that, where home is. At the moment home is where my hat is, my sweet woolen, charcoal sixpence I got for my birthday two months ago from my awesome Aussie friends down here.
Have been feeling a bit better today and even ventured out for a late lunch with a friend at 3, my first meal in over a day. T had had the most peculiar dream about meeting his grandmother in a younger and way more buff version, dressed in a tank-top (or a wife beater as they're called here). A blue one. Apparently that was the thing that freaked him out, because men are supposed to dream in black and white while women in colour. He thinks it's related to women being able to multitask, men not. I said that I dream in colour and that I'm shit at multitasking. My dreams are always more vivid when I have cheese or apple just before going to bed; T had a cheese sandwich just before tucking in.
The thing that I found out I wanted to think more about, basically just as I wrote it, was the title. I first wrote it as a geographical description, ie. not 'at work slaving away' or 'at the Exchange hotel checking out hot boys', but started thinking about the saying 'home is where the heart is'. At the moment I'm living in Australia, on the opposite side of the world from the rest of my family and friends (I have a history of re-rooting a bit away from the nest).I find I start questioning things like feeling of belonging, roots and nationality when I'm this far away. For the longest time I was knowing that I'm half american, but unaware, if that makes any sense; you know it for a fact, you just haven't processed it and taken in the full meaning of it. So I know where I come from, now I'm just trying to figure out where I belong - and with that, where home is. At the moment home is where my hat is, my sweet woolen, charcoal sixpence I got for my birthday two months ago from my awesome Aussie friends down here.
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