Song salad

A not-so-quick writing excercise...

All the kids are kissing in the bathroom

Through the back yard we'd go walking
I trip fast and then I loose
Why can't I be you?

You need a uniform so you won't be ignored
Who am I to disagree?
I hear her heart beating loud as thunder
And I have got to have my way now

One flat foot on the devils wing

A four letter word got stuck in my head

No-none will be watching us

Creature comfort me tonight

We will never lose the time that we shared all these years
Rebel from the waist down
You may be a lover but you aint no dancer
Devils little sister

I wake up every morning and feel like a statistic
Little sister what have you done?
All the nightmares came today
They're coming to take me away

Hands in the air for supergirl
The joke behind the smile
So wonderfully pretty
Your cry is like music


Just a writing experiment I wanted to try, and I quite like how it turned out.
Can you guess all of the songs and artists?

It's been over a month! Time to Update!

Second semester of Uni has gone by so fast, and my head is in a constant traffic jam. Since my last update I have:

1) Randomly hooked up with a fantastic circus man - and as a result made a fantastic lifelong friend

2) Learned how to use a professional video camera

3) Been offered a job using said video camera

4) become completely frustrated with slide film

5) watched my beloved grandmother die slowly from cancer treatment

6) grown completely dissilusioned with the medical profession

7) developed a taste for beer

8) developed a taste for older goth men - as long as they're nice

9) discovered Hoyt's awesome two-person beanbags

10) spent too much money... as always

11) made a ton of friends

12) discovered awesome music through these friends

13) discovered that the longer I play flute at one time the worse I get.



My brain is like a traffic jam. So much so that i feel the urge to write down conversations after I have them, simply so as I can remember the tiny details and use them when I write. Someone once commented that all female fiction was merely dressed up diary entries - in some cases maybe they had a point. I had a fantastic day hanging out with this really cool girl from uni, who shall be refered to as Lola (she has bright red hair, like the title character in 'Run Lola Run'). She has a thing for a guy, but doesn't recon he would go for her, which i think is just bullshit because she is a unmittigated babe and one very cool lady. In fact, I mentioned to her that my girl friends are lucky I'm straight. I have some very awesome friends. Anyway, I wish I had a hidden dictophone which I could just surriptitiously hit record with when I sense an interesting conversation arising, just to keep the dialogue to use elements of at a later date. Would have made writing my Radio Play for Writing class a lot easier, too.

I like surropticiously listening to other peoples conversations too. Today I used a boom mic for the first time in my film class, and the most amazing thing occured - I found I could hear everything happening in the courtyard (where we were shooting). So, what I need is to set up a hidden dictophone on my person with a very powerful dynamic mic and invade peoples privacy for the sake of my art!
I don't want you to get me wrong, I'm not some kind of weird perve, but I find people to be fascenating, and the relationships people have with each other (in all shapes and forms) are fantasticly interesting to me. The more you pay attention to the intricate details, the more realistic your writing (especially dialogue) is and the more amazing ideas you get.

Another one is looking at websites such as FML and MDT... those stories are fantastic!

The other side

Okay, so I have about 5 weeks off from Uni now. I'm loving it! Well, I am now that I've recovered from having my teeth pulled. I'm still waiting for the final results of my last assignments to be posted out to me, but oh well.
My mother had a dinner party last night, so I got booted out of the house while they ate cheese, drank wine and talked over topics which were inappropriate for my sensitive ears. Luckily for me, I was invited to a moustache party for BunnyEars' birthday, which was being organised by her housemate, CrazyBitch. They also live with BunnyEars' two brothers, and a whole bunch of their mates showed up. Within half an hour of us getting there I was hit on by a moron, GorgeousGoth's sixteen-year-old sister was told to hook up with their sixteen-year-old friend, and a male friend of ours (codename:Hernando) was asked which of us was 'the easiest.' The general consensus was that GorgeousGoth was in a relationship, her sister was jail bait and I had my shit kicking boots on. In other words, no go. Didn't stop them from trying though.
The high point of the evening was the fire in the backyard. They tried to get a bonfire going in a shallow basin which i think may have been a barbecue pit. It was next to a pile of wooden pallets. And the drunk morons were chucking in weatherboards which didn't fit, so when shit started to burn and fall on the ground it was up to me and the other sober people to fix it. We started to take bets to see which emergency service we'd need first. On the upside, there was chocolate salami. :)

List of 20 things I want to do before I die

In no particular order

1. Guest Program RAGE

2. Be in a rock/blues band which plays more places than just my highschool

3. Write a novel

4. Write for TV

5. Photograph Europe

6. invent a coctail

7. Read every book on my 'must read before I die' list

8. Listen to everything in my music collection

9. Convince my 14-year-old cousin to use her brains and that boys and popularity aren't the only thing in life

10. Direct a music clip for Alice Cooper

11. Write a successful internet comic strip

12. Move out of my parents place

13. Write a childrens book about a transvestite named Skirts Magee

14. Learn to play my bass properly

15. Get my goddam drivers liscence

16. DJ a classic rock/metal set at a gay nightclub

17. Swim in a pool of pumkin soup

18. Meet Tina Fey, Marieke Hardy, Pauley Perette, Tim Minchin and Matt Bellamy and invite them all around for tea, scones, and maybe a six-way.

19. Finish what I start

20.

huh...

It's a very strange feeling when you realise that older friends you once looked up to are still the same as they ever were... and you don't respect them as much as you used to....
Its not a fun feeling.

Rebellious!

Before I start I just want to say that Spunky and I broke up over a week ago. Don't particularly want to talk about it but for continuity's sake I should probably just put that out there.

Anyway, I'm being rebellious today. I'm sitting in my second last Lit Tute for the semester, being talked at by the gay Pirate and not giving a damn about what he says. All I want is to survive the next two hours.

I went out on Saturday night to DV8 with my mates and had a fantastic time. I had a few drinks, but stayed relatively sober. I actually prefer to be sober when I'm out - I don't get the attraction of being trashed when you re in a relatively unsafe place. That's right, I'm the safe one.
I dunno why they think I didn't have as much fun as them- I love the music and I love to dance :)
Still, alcoholic stupors aside I love the way my friends have fun. We dance and enjoy the music and don't care what people think- I have to laugh at the people who just stand around looking 'deep' and 'non conformist' in their totally black outfits and just stare at you like you re an insane slut without knowing a thing about you except that you enjoy vodka. Is it really that fun to sit in a corner and not say or do much? Frequent readers will know that music is something that has an insane power over me - I can't just sit and stare when a song I love is playing (and at dv8 there are a lot of songs I love). So okay, if they don't dance maybe it's because they don't like the music - when I went to school disco's when I was 10 I didn't dance because I thought the music was crap. I learned pretty quick not to go - what was the point?
But these people keep coming back, so they can't hate the music, because why pay $12 on a regular basis to go back to a place you don't like (I am of course discounting educational institutions - I don't know why I'm paying to sit in this Tute class with a guy who is meant to be teaching us when all he does is talk).

Maybe it's because they feel that it's a place they're 'meant to be,' which is an amusing concept in itself. It's as though they are conforming to the non-conformist stereotype.
Another example of this is when my mother (who's in party plan) did a party for a gay couple. She walks in and they have a Celine Dion DVD playing in the background, and they introduce her to their chihuahua named Tiffany. I have nothing against this - live and let live - but people seem to feel 'I am this, therefore I have to act how society tells me to,' and it's not even a conscious thing. 'I am a non conformist, therefore I'm going to sit in a metal club and drink and stare at the losers having fun...man I wish I could have fun, but no! I can't because this is who I am!'
Grow up. Enjoy life and quit paying good money to sit and wish.

I know, I'm not saying anything new but that's even weirder - why do people keep making the same stupid choices?

Oh dear god, I still have another hour of this moron talking at me!! He saps all of my humor away and just makes me angry. Jerk.

Maybe I'll have something new to say next time.

Lou

Staying Alive... to fight Gay Pirates.

So life has been hectic, as per usual. Ah well, at least I've found a little time to blog my pretentious ramblings. I'm becoming the very thing I hate, aren't I? Damn snobby arts degree.

I’m on the bus to Uni this morning. Two glorious hours of boredom lay ahead of me. Usually I like to nap through it with my mp3 player turned up to block out ambient noise. The added bonus of this is that no-one likes to sit next to a sleeping person for some reason, so i don’t feel crowded. But today my battery is dead, I’m wide awake and have no elbow room. Ah well, at least I’m updating ;) And with my laptop open i can charge my mp3 player. Win!
Which leads me to the first of this posts observations – bus passengers. Until a few stops ago I was sitting behind a very large woman with body odour which whenever I caught a whiff of made me retch slightly in the back of the throat. Mingled in with this, she also had that ‘sick smell.’ You know the one? The one people seem to have about them when they have a particularly nasty cold. It’s not pleasant. Not that I blame her for being ill, but I do wonder how many people will be afflicted with her disease over the next few days. I’m betting on the young parents which have just taken her place, pram in front of them. Ah, the the goodness of public transport. It’s filled with wonderful people who (to quote the fantastic Terry Pratchett) ‘regard “Hygiene” as a greeting’.
There’s one man standing at the doors with a rain coat, one of those caps with the back neck flap and a trolley that you often see pushed by elderly women. He’s just whistling away cheerfully.
The occupants have thinned out a bit. Most of them got off at the shops we just passed, including the girl sitting next to me whose place no-one has taken, so I have a bit more space. It will fill up again though. I hate not having room to move my arms – if I want to get something out of my pocket I look like a T-Rex trying to scratch its belly. In a retarded kind of way.
This bus rout is deceptively long. There are times that I think we’re almost there, but then I remember a major stop that we haven’t been to yet, and I settle in for another half hour of snooze.
I don’t even know why I’m going to uni today. Perhaps it’s in the hope that the ONE two-hour tute that I don’t even have to attend will offer a glimmer of insight. It’s for literature. And my tutor is killing the love.
My tutor – who I have dubbed ‘GayPirate’ because he has both ears pierced and always has a ten-o’clock shadow – doesn’t like out group. Why? Because on the rare occasions that we actually talk to him we openly disagree with any hypothesis he throws at us. So we barely say anything, So he just talks, and he just talks on and on and on and on. And we tune out. And then he asks a question and we have NO CLUE what to say. Sometimes, if we’re lucky, one of us will have heard enough of his vacuous shit to save us from silence and respond to the question... by disagreeing completely to the point he’s trying to make. I am one of the few people in the class who does this on occasion. I spend the rest of the time trying not to fall asleep. In fact, in last weeks class we watched a short film after about an hour of his talk talk talking, and whilst I was visibly nodding off while he droned on and on, I was wide awake for the film. I didn’t expect to be as I’d had a late one, but fuck me sideways the short film which we had already seen in the lecture was more interesting.
The real kicker though? I have friends in his second tutorial group – the one he goes to when we finish – and they said he actually complains about us. Not because we say nothing – the other group do too – but because we disagree with his views! The other group just absent mindedly nods at whatever he says.

UPDATE: I am now finishing this blog entry after the tute class. I disagreed with him a lot today. A lot. And the entire time I was thinking 'Gay Pirate with way too much self regard.'

Anyway, I realised something else today - Universities have the largest number of people that wear berets in the western world outside of the French army and New York. I wonder if they realise that the majority of French people who wear them are in the armed forces? The only people you see wearing berets in Paris are the soldiers with sub-machine guns guarding the Eiffel Tower, and tourists.

I watched a french film called 'And They All Lived Happily Ever After' on Saturday night. What I found hilarious about it is that at the very end, a woman who's husband is having an affair eventually has one of her own. With Johnny Depp. He's in it for all of five minutes, and he gets the girl, steams up the camera and probably collects the biggest pay cheque of the lot of them. They couldn't find a French actor good looking enough, so they brought in good ole Depp. I had to laugh. There are no obviously sexy men in France. They make up for it with the accent. (If you haven't heard Depp speak in french, by the way, you haven't lived. It's pure masturbation fuel, no matter what your sexual preference is).



Spunky and I went and saw a movie last night with a friend of ours, who Spunky routinely calls 'The Thing.' They've been friends for years; The Thing calls Spunky a Wookie.

Anyway, when I knocked off work (I'm selling cameras now :) The pay isn't fantastic but I get great Spivs and staff discounts) the three of us went and saw 'The Boat that Rocked.'
I'd heard some very bad reviews for it, but I liked it a lot. It's just lighthearted fun and not meant to be taken seriously. Also has a killer soundtrack. Check it out, especially if you're a fan of the sixties. And sexually based humor. I know I am :D

Anyway, Lou out.

Elbows, lack of air and audience humiliation.

Hey there. I know, I know, I havn't updated in months. It's been a busy time full of ups and downs.
Spunky seems to have gotten his equalibriam back, which is making everything else in life so much easier to live with.
I have a ton of stuff to write about for two of my subjects, the other two i just need to sit there and look vaguely interested.

I realized the other day how much music will influence my mood. I mean, I’ve always known that my mood can be affected very much by music however I wasn’t aware of its magnitude. On the day I had this revelation I was really very down about a lot of things. Family, uni and relationship were all weighing heavily on my mind, I was catching a tram into the city to meet my family and go to the Melbourne International Comedy festival Gala. The tram stopped half way, and a nice lady informed me that if I walk down a bit I can find another tram stop into the city and wait fifteen minutes for the next one. So, I’m standing there a little bit peeved, and the music on my MP3 player changes from something quite slow and a little sad and in fitting with my mood, to a song called ‘Nu Rock’ by Morningwood – a punchy and rather happy little rock outfit from the US. And I couldn’t help but be cheered up considerably. And as the tracks progressed through their first and so far only album I became rather jovial – how can you not be happy when listening to a track called “everybody rules” ? And I found that by the time I took my seat at the Gala I was in far more of a mood to be entertained. Well, until my brother began talking to me. He always manages to rub me the wrong way. And when my parents actually joined in I became peeved enough that when the warm-up guy came up and tried to get audience participation, I was not inclined to join. Then finally the cameras rolled and out stepped Sean McCallif – who I really appreciate a lot- and I said “Go on funny man. Entertain me.” I was not disappointed. The first act was a aboriginies dancing to Zorba the Greek.

Went to see MSI last night with GorgeousGoth and three other friends: BunnyEars, ShortBeardy, and CrazyBitch, all of whome I adore. It was a fun gig, but I think I may have enjoyed it more if I wasnt getting elbowed in the stomach and had regular access to air. Being surrounded by stoners definately cheepened the expierience. I was kinda bummed that they didnt play 'Get It Up.' Its one of my favourite tracks. "I wanna make some babies/ I wanna get it on!/ I wanna Make ya Horney/ but i cant get it up!" There was the fun of members of the audience being dragged on stage and being humiliated, especially this one instance where Jimmy seemed to be getting off by riding an audience member like a horse.

Last night/ early this morning I was coming home from the MSI concert in russel st and thinking "i should write when I wake up,' but for some reason I just dont feel like it. It seems like all I want to do lately is to hang out with Spunky. Maybe I'll draw or something. I'm not feeling particularly funny or inciteful. Maybe Ill start up a comic blog. I tried it a while ago but it wasnt very well drawn, nor was it particularly funny or inciteful. Maybe its time for a re-try.

Night.

The fun of cooking

Why is cooking so theraputic? I was stressed to the max and suddenly decided, out of the blue, that i wanted to cook a three course meal for my family. So I pulled out the cookbook I got mum for Christmas and made a massive pot of pumkin, coconut and ginger soup, followed by chicken snitzel with lilipili chili relish on top and parmisan mashed potato, braised red cabbage with apple and bacon on the side.
Basically, i got to hack up a couple of pumpkins, beat four chicken breasts into submission and mash a ton of potatos. See? Theraputic.
If you want to work out stress and take your mind off something, cook. Then, guilt those who you cooked for to do the cleaning up. ;P See? I'm full of flash ideas.

Ah, the familiar queezy feeling....

I am blogging to you now from my brand new laptop on the way to work. Ill be writing this entry all day when I get the chance. Probably wont finish till tonight. There's something sticky on my space bar, I’m very hung over. I have to go to work on a Saturday fighting a hangover. Fan Fucking tastic.
A lot has been going on in my life lately. Spunky and I are are going through a bit of a rough patch. Last Thursday he said to me that he was feeling very dispassionate about life, and that included our relationship. So I said okay, and gave him some time to work out his feelings. Then we’d meet up on Saturday, (Valentines day) and see whats what. Needless to say, I was a wreck for two days. I barely slept, barely ate. I just couldn’t force food down my throat. Even though my stomach was screaming at me for sustenance and I wasn’t feeling well, whenever I tried to eat anything larger than half a sandwich I felt like I was going to throw up.
So, Saturday rolls around and I’m convinced that Spunky will pull the ol’ “Lets just be friends” thing. I couldn't handle that. He’s the first guy that said that he loved me….and wasn’t my father, brother, other family member or random creepy guy. He’s the first guy I've ever slept with. Basically, I love him to pieces, and the idea of being friends and seeing him and not being able to touch him, kiss him, and be in his arms is torture.
I came home from work Saturday after being in tears on and off and walking through a shopping centre all decked out for the holiday, and a co-worker being given 1o long stemmed roses from a guy who’s asked her out on a date, and while in the shower I come to the conclusion that if hes dumping me on Valentines day that I need to look smoking, slamming hot. So I wear a skirt that I know he likes, and make sure I look…..well, decent, I guess is what I settled for.
I meet him on the train to the movies, and we sat there with a seat between us. He stroked my hand, smiled. We got to Southland and found the line for tickets was huuuuuuuuuuuge!!!!!!!! Evidently they could only find one or two desperate single employees to work the shift. So we say “fuck that” and grab some food, figuring we can catch the train back a couple of stations and walk along the beach to get home.
Well, while we were sitting at the station he took the sunglasses off my face, stroked my chin and smiled. I couldn’t help it – I sort of half hugged him, half collapsed on his shoulder. I was entranced by thee smell of him once again and our feces were millimetres apart……. Then the train showed up and we got on. Spunky brushed the hair out of my eyes and kissed me. He then said that he still felt the same.
So we went down to the beach, and there was a good jazz orchestra playing nearby so we hung out there for a while. Then it got dark and cold, so we went back to crash at his.
I thought we were back on track. I didn’t see him again after that until Wednesday, when we hung out with some mates and I spent the nights at his again. Then Thursday afternoon…. He says he’s still feeling off and has been thinking about ‘the mortality of our relationship.’ So after tears and stopping an annoyingly ironic Joe Cocker album from playing, I told him he needed to go away, figure himself out and let me know when he did. Once he left, I cried for all of 5 seconds before heading to the fridge – jackpot. Two half bottles of white wine. I was on the couch watching NCIS dvds and well on my way to being fully trashed by the time my brother got home from school. I didn’t have work the next day, so what did it matter? I jumped on MSN and found my very good and close girl friend, whom in this blog shall be referred to as GorgeousGoth. She was free Friday, and agreed to come over midday and get completely pissed up. I figured as long as I was reasonably sober by the time I went to bed, I’d be fine for work the next day.
I wake up Friday morning feeling queasy and not able to eat much. I watched an episode of a TV show I downloaded… and got a phone call from the boss. Two of the girls were off sick and they needed me in to work. I need the money. I called GG and re-scheduled our get together until after work.
So, after an absolutely horribly busy day of working in a job I despise, I finally meet GG and we buy some grog, head back to my place and proceed to get plastered while watching season 2 of The Mighty Boosh, followed by our new favourite movie REPO! The Genetic Opera – to which we sang all of the songs. We assigned each other characters. I got to be Graverobber. It was a fuuuuuuuuuuuun night. Between us we went through 4 Smirnoff mixers, 4 smirnoff double blacks, half a bottle of straight midouri, half a bottle of straight orange curacao, and half a bottle of tequila. We didn’t pay a lot of attention to Across the Universe – the next film we put on – except to sing ‘Little Help From My Friends’ at the top of our lungs. Eddie Izzard’s Dressed to kill barely even got a laugh – we were crying and hugging each other and telling each other things that we would never have said sober . We’re repressed people.
So, I wake up the next morning, and GG heads home and is feeling fine when I spoke to her later. I am riding the magical porcelain bus for a half hour, and then I was off to work.
I'm home from work now. Damn it was bad. There were three of us with hangovers. I got noooooooooo sympathy.
I don’t want to lose Spunky. Still. If he does end up wanting me back (which is looking more unlikely by the hour) he’s got a lot of work to do.

Every Day, the Fluffy Temptation of Wheat

So, it's been a while. Ten points if you can tell me where my title is from.
Work has been pretty busy over Christmas and NYE, and it's starting to shit me. Spunky recons because I'm not being challenged mentally, and that's why I'm messing up. Or, as he puts it, "it's beneath you." Maybe he's right, but I think he might be overly praising me.

Of course, the radio doesn't help. We have Vega 91.5 in the Cafe, and Triple M on in the kitchen. As a result I hear the same songs up to three times in one day, and many of them aren't particularly good. The next time I hear The Veronicas played on a 'Rock' station (which is what Triple M advertises itself as being, and what it used to be) I will be forced to take a very hot freshly dishwasher-sterilised knife to the station manager's gonads. Every time I hear that annoyingly pathetic result of corporate market research excuse for a song called 'I Kissed A Girl' by Katie Perry, I take it as my cue for a bathroom break. I might have liked Pink's new album had I not heard the same two songs from it twice every shift, but the worst tragedy is that they are starting to make me sick of The Living End. I love The Living End. I think that their new album 'White Noise' is fantastic, and when I heard the first single from it played on Triple J, 'How Do We Know,' I couldn't wait for the album to be released. Triple J is the only station that plays the track, and it's now on low rotation. Two more singles have been released, one of which I love, another which is not as good. Which one do you think the commercial stations have on high rotation?
Triple J is the best. It keeps many tracks on high rotation, but only for a few weeks so you dint get sick of the songs! Whats even more amusing is that when I'm washing dishes and trying not to go insane, I hear the words 'new music,' preceding a song which I had heard on Triple J six months ago.

So, once I finally get the hell out of there, I catch the train home. Because I haven't started my uni course yet I am ineligible for a concession card, and I'm living at home so I may or may not be able to get a health care card. Long story short, I have to fork over twenty bucks of my hard earned cash per week just to get to and from work without incurring an over-zealous fine. So much for trying to save. Why do train fares cost so much?? Yeah yeah I know, running a public transport network costs money, more and more each day due to rising inflation, and people not buying tickets, but more people would buy tickets if the prices weren't so high. Lower the prices and you'll make more money - more tickets will be bought and you wont have to hire as many ticket inspectors. Simple.

I've decided that I don't like ticket inspecters much. Well, one. Don't get me wrong, I'm not pissed at him because he caught me with a concession ticket without a concession card (it's a fair cop, I'll wear it. In fact I probably won't be fined as its a first offence and I was more than compliant), however there was one thing he said that did smart. He called me 'Ma'am."
Ma'am. Both before and after he asked me my age, he called me Ma'am. I am 18, I'm not a Ma'am. I'm a Miss, or even a Ms. Ma'am is for women older than yourself by at least 10 years. Who does that? I don't care how polite he was trying to be, he wasn't right.

ATTENTION TO ALL MEN AND STUPID YOUNG WOMEN - Women don't like being called Ma'am. It makes us feel old or, in my case, confused and patronised. I'm young. It's Miss. Or even Mate. Or you could call me by my name.
Well, you can't. As far as you're concerned, my name is Lou.