oh no!

I'm crazy!

For the sake of consistency (or lack-there-of)

i figured its time to write another one of these to maintain this blog that has about four subsrcribers (hello!)
i guess this is juat an update that very few will be interested in,
With each day im wanting more and more to maintain my sobriety, but with each day im also wanting more and more to relapse. I was doing pretty well at keeping my body drug and alcohol free, that is, untill last weekend. So its been a whole 6 days sober for me.

I bought four books the other day Anthony Burgess' "A Clockwork Orange", Oscar Wilde's "the picture of Dorian Gray", Patrick Suskind's "Perfume" and Ken Kesey's "One flew over the cuckoos nest". Theyre pretty well known classic books, but i havent read them yet. I've almost finished a clockwork orange, and i think it is so much better than the movie.
I plan to start a book soon. It's something ive always wanted to do and have tried to start, but never actually got around to writing even a chapter. I have to pace myself and not get ahead of my self though, because thats always been my downfall. Jack of all trades and master of none, i suppuse. My attention is too easily lead from whatever it was caught by before that, and whatever it was caught by before that was most definitely stealing my attention away from something else i was investing my time and mind in.

I've been thinking alot lately about how i want to get out of sydney. This city feels so toxic, it's like the accumalative energy of an entire region is negative, but im scared that i might find that the case wherever else i may go (not that i have the money to leave).
I had a discussion with my mother the other day about how pressured and caged i feel being apart of this society.It seems that, living in the suburbs, the only way i can survive and mean anything is to get a taxed job, give moeny to the government, or be surveyd by centrelink etc. It upsets me to no end, to think that i cant really have control of what i do with day to day living (in a sense)
I have a job now. I'm a waiter in a thai restaraunt/caffe. Wow that word is depressing....waiter. person who waits (stop laughing at me).
My current occupation involves the following:
-customers who expect you know know every detail of the menu
-running around in a space almost as small as my bedroom
-1000 different types of coffe to write down CORRECTLY
-a constant smile and lovely manners reguardless off any current mood
-lovely manners towards any customer who may be small mindedly insulting and aggravating you.

i just wrote a whole paragraph then depeted it. im just rambling.

I was just discussing with my friend Nina how since i was little ive always wanted to live in a hollowed out oak, with grass floor and a pond inside and one day i will get that. Well not that exactly, id more than likey contract molaria plus an assortment of jungle diseases. But one day i want a place to get away from the mentally doomed civilisation that causes so much anger on my part , somwhere that i can think freely on concious levels unacheiveable when your constantly surrounded by the numbing suburbs and city.
I want to acheive deep mental and spiritual exploration without thr drugs ive addicted myself to.

right now is nt enough.

EDIT: i just read through this and its typo city in there, sorry, but i cant be bothered going through and correcting xx

I'm only posting because i'm bored

I figured it was time to write a new blog, though i always find that words and thought escape me when i go to write here...

Michael Jackson has died, pretty much everybody is experiencing some form of mourning or sadness due to this....and i can't seem to care.
I know that doesnt make me evil and/or heartless, seeing as i didnt know him, but beeing surrounded by all this remorse for a musician i dont listen to (i only half liked thriller) is making me feel like a bit of a cold creature.
I dont know what else to say on the matter, i think im just distracting myself with this.

_
in other news i still havent reached planet earth, i think im on my way, but im definitely not there yet.

pointless point of page

I think so much that, lately, what im expelling is meak and understated.
Like trying to juice an orange that is very clearly filled to the point of almost bursting, but only getting a few sour, saline-like drops. In all my years of orange juicing this has never happened, but its how i feel at the moment.
My mouth and hands dont currently know who i am.
I've tried a few different approaches to existing. When i've been going out too much, inducing too many drugs and drinking too much cheaap booze, i've stopped, calmed down and taken a new perspective on wherever i may be at that point in life. When i've become too much of a hermit to remain clinically insane, i've painstakingly rejoined "society" with fresh views and values.
But at the moment im in a rut.
I can feel all these little creations inside of me screaming to be let out, but when i go to do it, i freeze.
I want to go somewhere new, really new. I want to meet new people, solid stimulating people.
But i'm stuck in the headcave.
no.
I dont know where it is, exactly, that i'm stuck, but its very frustrating.
____

I love betty


I am a ghost


This Sin City illustration is profound


This is my best friend the moon, taken from my bedroom window


Another picture taken from my bedroom window, that roof belongs to the insensitively loud and obnoxious church i have the pleasure of living next to


This is my bedroom window


x

Maybe it should be called "fuck"

There must be a word that describes me
But no matter how hard I squeeze I can’t find it today
All you do is fuck
And all I've done is fuck
Everything is fuck
Blah blah fuck, fuck is all I can say
It goes against all that the imaginary imagined me to be
A blade of grass plateaus but, look, so much potential
All I see is fuck
What is this fuck?
All nothing is fuck
Blah blah fuck, fuck is so influential
Passersby pause for the show but a show is so staged
I've such an abundance of obscenity, I might aswell share
Fuck what I call fuck
My freedom is fuck
Individual for the fuck
Blah blah fuck, this fuck is starting to wear
Angst-bitten, good-time monkeys grooming our rage
Mud-hungry clean-agers with such fine direction
Have some more fuck
Super-size that fuck
We all love the fuck
Blah blah fuck, fuck is the hardest erection

And when we grow up we’ll tell our spawn
“Don’t say fuck
Don’t do fuck
Don’t hear fuck
And please, don’t make fuck”
And well fuck all around them
And fuck in their heads
Well dance to the fuck-beat
And cry “fucks not dead!”
Fuck ‘till the sun comes
Secret fucks for the day
Hide all our goal fucks
While we fuck on the way
And they’ll fuck under our blind fuck
And fuck until it’s gone
But we’ll always find more fuck
Fuck bless, the fuck will fuck right on.

Meet Spud

So i started this blog, thinkng i was going to use it only to write about substatancial and and intersting things. Thinking i was going to wholeheartedly give my point of view on everything.
It seems i was wrong.
I am a very highs and lows type of person. One extreme to the other.
Although i dont have to point that out, so i should stop (mostly because its making me feel like a pretentious wank, the more i go on about it)
All im saying is the camparison between my first post and this one is pretty funny.

And now to the point.
This is my new friend, Spud.


I swear there are much more worthwhile things somewhere in this brain. x

Maybe i need more therapy

I was just skimming through the wonderful examples of being lost in translation at engrishfunny.com (because im mature like that), and i came across this one picture that kinda made me sad.

OK maybe it wasnt exactly sad, but i now have a strange sympathy towards cigarettes.

Sometimes lolcats make me sad.


All of a sudden about two hours ago i was hit by the impulsion to do things.
First i thought it would be cool to remix Bjorks song "all is full of love". I started to cut the song up taking out what would work, but got frustrated and stopped. But i will finish it, because i found some cool ways to manipulate the samples i had managed to get.
Then i started writing a song about a very messy situation i seem to be involved in, but only ended up adding more to a song written about one of the people in that situation.

"You dont hurt me much at all

But knowing you hurts enough"

I think its hilarious.

By that time i had the genius idea of making a pinhole camera. So i started to look up DIY sites for mangable ways of making one, and all i have to say is i hopelessly love pinhole cameras.
The effect of the pictures is so wonderful and comforting (seeing as polaroid have decided to stop the production of their analog cameras and film, crushing the self rightious spirits of indie kids all over the planet (i was also crushed))
There are so many cool ways of making one, my current personal favourite being the match box.

I feel yet another obsession coming on.
I want so badly to make one....or ten.
Its so comforting to know that through DIY theres still some photogarphic beauty that the digital age has destroyed. Dont get me wrong, digital photgraphy can still look amazing. But theres something very real and solid about analog and instant photographs that cant be imitated.

This feeling of wanting to make something(s) could not have come at a better time.
I really need a distraction from whats happening in and out of my brain.

P.S. i have no idea why i have this blog, i dont really think very many people are going to care about it.
Im going to write a blog about blogging soon. A paradoxical analysis.

I hate it when i use "paradoxical" where it isnt needed.