Below are the 20 most recent journal entries recorded in foolishtom's LiveJournal:

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Sunday, April 27th, 2008
5:32 am	No One Takes Any Drugs Except Me and My Drug-fucked Friends. I thought to myself in this delusion, hey this might be a good idea to post, I mean what the hell, no one reads it (it's impossible not to read something that's already created [I have no idea what that means]), I can do and write what I want. I'm basically amusing myself... so we met at The ED just around the corner from my abode, and one of my new friends, Chris From Cash-Office, told me that he'd just taken heaps of Ritalin, words were similar to, "I normally take 50mg tablets but I just snorted some 200g tablets and now I'm fucked. Long live the literary revolution. You have ice-cream shoes. 616 is actually the devil's number, not 666 as is easily misinterpreted." "50 what an even number," I replied. I really like that guy. Didn't get allowed in to The Elephant ("The Elephant!" I hear you gasp...), well me and three of my friends anyway because we weren't wearing appropriate footwear. We called them fat cunts and left. Went to The Exeter instead, drank, talked heaps of shit, until Dave arrives with eight tablets of Dexies (Dexedrin? Is that a drug? I have no idea...). Dave was the most completely wasted I've ever seen him. He was slurring his words like a dirty old man... So I take four of them, and tell him, "Us junkies have to stick together," while hugging him and now I'm totally fucked and not going to be able to sleep for a very long time. Hey this is pretty cool, this is what it's like to be inside the mind of a young man who has had at least twelve drinks (beer and bourbon, of course), taken two pills,smoked weed, and taken Valium to lessen the inevitable comedown. Man I wish times like these my parents could find my post and find out how I utterly despise them, how I've devolved, and of how far I've delved into the darkness. Well that was gay...and pretentious. Brief summary of the night, no more random bullshit gargling: stole Dave's pin from his jacket that was being used at his brothers wedding and stuck it into my finger, just below and under the first layer of skin. Waved disfigured finger in front of stranger's faces; they were unimpressed. Stuck a finger under the tendon of my skin so that my finger looks like it's wrigglng inside my arm...Lost a game of pool at Shotz, hit cue-stick forceably against the ceiling repeatedly and did not get reprimanded. Drank random people's drinks without them noticing. Pissed on the doorsteps of a church (possible the highlight of the night[I hope none of you are Christians...]).Set off fire-alarms in buildings and watched fire-engines drive quickly to extinguish non-existent fires. Talked about illegal abortions and murdering children loudly in Hungry Jack's; no one seemed to care; my chips were dry as fuck....punched people's arms so as not to inflict gratuitous pain, just a taste (gay!). A great night all in all. Listening to Show Your Bones by the Yeah Yeah Yeah's, yeah that fucking album rocks yeah. Yeah?! Anyway supposedly I'm the next Hunter S. Thompson, gifted journalistic skills about to undergo an imminent drug/death/crazy metamorphosis. I told my friend, Chris From Cash-Office, my good writer friend who claims has been published, you know, the one with the Ritalin, a basic synopsis from my lastest story Bub (old now but I didn't let on cause it's still kinda good) you know, the one about the addictive hallucinogen... Or is It?! What a cliff-hanger, bet you can't wait to get a hold of that rare treasure that's just looking for a home in a cob-wed ladden attic...It's okay I guess, my friends kinda liked it, they said, You're a great writer but why do you have to write about all of that sick shit? Cartharsis, I replied. "What's catharsis mean?" they said. Idiots... Anyway, totally sick of writing all of this shit now, gonna regret writing this in the morning... Fun times. You guys know I don't do all of this shit every weekend right? It's just youth being used to it's extreme limits (?), only young once, who knows I could wake up tomorrow and have testicular cancer destroying my most vital organs of manhood (now how will I procure an heir...?), as well as my digestive system (?) bowel, bladder, prostate et cetera... Have fun guys. If you're going to pray for my unholy soul pray to Satan; I'm sure I can sell it for amazing thrash-metal technical skills on my guitar. And then the world is mine. AH HA HA HA HA! I'd prefer a Gibson Les Paul or an Ibanez Blah-Blah ... (Comment on this)
Saturday, January 19th, 2008
11:58 pm	So much to write, so little time. New Year's was fun, went around to Dave's and got wasted, the night culminated in setting each other on fire, and then setting other random people on fire, and then puking. Read a lot of books recently, the best of them being Candide by Voltaire and Junky by Burroughs. Also, been playing a lot of guitar, mostly Rammstein, Manson and The Ramones, nothing too complex just yet. Bought a box set of films directed by Jodorowsky, El Topo, The Holy Mountain, and Fando Y Lis. Watched El Topo and The Holy Mountain back to back without break, and afterwards I felt like this was the best random DVD purchase of my life. Bought some more Bowie CDs also, love that guy so much, he's become without doubt my favourite singer of all time. Finished editing my dream journal; there were over 200 for the year in the end; now I just gotta type that sucker up, and start the story gestating in my mind for the last year. A scary prospect. Had a poker night. I won. Saw I Am Legend with my Dad today (average; my Dad gave it a 9/10 and I gave him a bewildered look that said, How did you create me?) and then got wasted with him, Andre and Cimone at Shenannigans. The End. (Comment on this)
Wednesday, December 19th, 2007
7:24 pm	I went and saw a deathcore band from the US called All Shall Perish on Sunday at The Underground, and they played an awesome gig even though the venue directly caters for the hardcore culture, therefore no alcohol is served, and there's always little straight-edge kids running around fucking everything up for everybody else. Anyway, I had a great time, and the band they were touring with, The Red Shore, from Geelong, who I hadn't seen or heard of before, played a great set also. Just as I leave work today I receive a call from Dave telling me there's been some sort of horrible car-crash involving the bands as they were driving to Sydney to play a gig there, and that two people have died but he's unsure what bands they were from. I get home and google "All Shall Perish crash" and find out that the singer from A Red Shore and their merch guy died from their van flipping and crashing on a highway. Six other people involved in the crash went to hospital also. It's so intense thinking that I saw him rocking out on stage four days ago and now he's fucking dead. He was 22. Totally fucked. (Comment on this)
Friday, December 14th, 2007
10:35 pm	My life in highlights since last post: advanced lethargy can compel me no further. - Saw Lacuna Coil, Static-X, Devildriver and Megadeth at the Theby. - Turned 23, got incredibly high and wasted during the night and dabbled with hallucinogens in the morning. - Read Blood Meridian by Cormac McCarthy. - Saw Across The Universe with John and Brett; one of the best films of the year. - Went to a friends 21st and drank as much free alcohol as possible. The theme was, "What you WANTED to be when you grow up." Dressed as a writer, wrote poetry for strangers upon request. Stole a replica pistol. - Saw Behemoth play at Fowler's. One of the best gigs of the year. - Had a dream that I committed suicide, and as I passed into the after-life I began to travel through space and time and was about to receive vast ascension of knowledge, but woke up before the revelations could be experienced. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, November 6th, 2007
3:37 pm	Haven't been able to use the computer in a while since my housemate has got exams and is also addicted to playing online war games, so now is my chance and I have to take it. Wanted to write about last Tuesday, which was a great night ... or was it Thursday, I can't remember. Anyway, I finished work at three after starting at six, came home and showered and rushed into the city to meet Emily after work. We'd planned dinner and a movie but couldn't resist having a few beers at the Exeter to chat. Gave Emily my dream journals and Bub and wrote down a list of movies for her to see as soon as possible, quietly watched her reactions as she read some of them. I may get to 200 dreams for the year, I'm at about 170ish at the moment but recently I've been having between two and four dreams a night. So we had some beers and went across the road to a restaurant and had another one while waiting for our meals to be served. When they finally arrived we ate them in about seven minutes since Eastern Promises started at six fifty, and the matron looked at us in amazement, like we'd committed some sort of miraculous feat. Went to Nova, sat down with a bunch of older people crammed into the small cinema. One of the best movies I've seen this year, as good as A History Of Violence if not better. One of the most original fight scenes ever filmed, also. Who knew Viggo Mortensen could be so good? Also saw Machinehead, Trivium and Archenemy play at the Theby. It was very good. Almost passed out in the circle, but other than that, very good. (1 Comment |Comment on this)
Wednesday, October 24th, 2007
12:05 am	I really want to write about Dave's birthday on Saturday night in detail but I'm feeling tired and lazy and will have to resort to highlights. I woke up at five thirty am and arrived at work at six, worked until two and started drinking immediately upon arriving home. Played Guitar Hero and listened to metal (Machinehead, Behemoth, Pig Destroyer) until sevenish, opened a bottle of wine for the girl next door since she didn't have a bottle-opener. Met Brock at the train station in the city at nine fifteen, walked to the Cranker and drank beers and played pool. Dave and his crew arrived at about ten, played more pool, made friends with old off-tap Canadians. Talked about music and upcoming gigs, complimented Dave on his new tattoo (guitar with wings on left arm). Everybody left to go to Enigma, waited for Justin, Emily and Mark to arrive. Ran down Rundle Mall, talked loudly about favourite sex dreams, saw people from work and jumped on them, caught up with our group and arrived at Enigma. Moved to the beer garden and continued drinking, discussed random topics, had a fierce make-out session with a girl named Sarah, tried to reinsert her lip ring and accidentally put it in backwards; soon afterwards she was carried out of the bar since she'd lost the ability to walk. Sang back-up vocals for Bohemian Rhapsody with Simo, loud and terrible. Emily and Mark left, went around hugging everyone and saying how awesome they were. Went to the Horse, saw my cousin who is now waitressing there, drank lots of Red Bull and bourbon and discussed filth. Left at five, the sun was already up. Saw an old guy with short black hair and crazy-eyes who introduced himself as The Devil. Questioned the validity of his claim and he replied with, "Look into my eyes, I am The Devil." Said I'd always wanted to meet him, shook his hand and walked briskly in the opposite direction. Caught a cab home, played Guitar Hero until sixish, failed an easy song and threw the guitar, then staggered to my bedroom. Woke up at three thirty pm the next day. (Comment on this)
Friday, October 19th, 2007
9:23 pm	The Pendulum Well I haven't posted for a while, and it's not really that surprising when the main impetus for a return is to detail recent dreams. It just seems to me that these experiences are the most interesting ... but then again everyone thinks their dreams are more interesting than other's ... I'll rephrase: these experiences are the most interesting things happening in my life for me. I guess I should explain the Pendulum since I've decided to title this post with the word. I was walking in a vaguely European city and turned down a narrow alley and found a woman and a man seated adjacent to one another on stools, the woman old and haggard. She was holding an object rectangular in shape with a crescent on one end; pictured along the curve of the crescent were lost signs of the zodiac, demonic in origin, and a pendulum fixed to the rectangular piece of the apparatus swung back and forth over the signs. The lady was able to determine the man's future by what sign the pendulum stopped on. When the pendulum stopped her eyes glazed over and she started speaking the language of the demons in a deep rasping voice not her own, and that was when I decided to run as fast as possible down the street away from her. I had another really enjoyable dream that involved David Bowie masquerading as a school janitor covertly trying to photograph me but it will take too long to write, but it's definitely one of my favourites for the year. Current Music: Behemoth - At The Left Hand Ov God (Comment on this)
Monday, September 17th, 2007
12:51 am	Saturday afternoon, 12 PM, I met with a friend from work in the city named Brock to attend the metal mini-festival Against The Grain 3 at Fowler's. We entered at 12:30ish after eating hotdogs at the train station, which would be our only sustenance for the next twelve hours. We started drinking beers immediately as soon as the first band played. There were fourteen or so bands on the bill; highlights included Closed Casket, Terrorust, Double Dragon, Truth Corroded and Fuck ... I'm Dead. After each set we'd buy more drinks and go outside so I could smoke cigarettes (there were a group of kids who looked about twelve wearing Slayer and Pantera shirts smoking Camel's), and talk to people from bands that had just played; they all seemed to be on amphetamines of some description, and this made conversation amusing. At three we found some other friends named Pig and Charlotte and intermittently hung out with them. They seemed to disappear at will, and by the end of the day we had lost them for good to boys with long hair wearing Iron Maiden shirts. The singer from Five Star Prison Cell remarked between songs that he had noticed a lot of people wearing these shirts. "Twenty years ago," he said, "we'd call these cunts bogans. Now it's all fucking cool and shit. It makes me fucking sick." Hardcore also seemed to be passe. "Are there any straight-edger's out today?" the singer from A Red Dawn asked. No response. "Good, we fucking killed them all." Injuries were abundant. I witnessed a guy getting knocked out and trampled, another breaking his wrist, someone else leaping high into the air for an attempted stage dive and falling to the ground as everybody stepped out of the way ... The last band finished at twelve AM. Brock and I staggered to the nearest McDonald's and ate while quietly insulting people. We started the walk back to Enigma for the after-party but we were suffering from exhaustion and afflictions and decided to catch a taxi instead. I was in bed by one. An enjoyable day, and a relatively cheap one at that, spending just under a hundred dollars. (Comment on this)
Saturday, September 8th, 2007
8:19 pm	This is the first occurence of a extended run of consecutive terrible weekends in about as long as I can remember. I work my ass off all week so I can have enough money to go out and have a good time and then either everything goes wrong or everybody bails on me at the last minute constructing counterfeit unimaginative excuses for not wanting to do anything. It frustrates me so much. This may seem like I'm utterly consumed by my own needs and feelings (and maybe I am), but it just feels like I wear my heart on my sleeve and put everything else in my life on hold for people that are either incredibly naieve or just really don't care about me as much as I do for them. Of course, this doesn't apply to my well established relationships with close friends, but to others that I find I have things in common with, or similar tastes and personalities. About a month ago I met up with some people at from work at The Elephant as a last resort after being abandoned with no warning at Church of all places (it wasn't my idea to meet there - really), and there was a moment during the night when I was able to give them all cigarettes simultaneously, and then light them all, and I was overcome with a strange euphoria. They asked why I was so happy and I told them that it brings me pleasure to be able to give something to someone without being asked and see flickers of happiness glide over their expressions (or something similar), and no matter how many different ways I tried to explain my actions they were unable to fathom how this brought me joy. Are people that fucking cold? I'm so sick off all this shit, it just feels at times that it's really not worth it anymore. Depressing post, how fucking mundane and stereotypical. (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Thursday, August 23rd, 2007
6:56 pm	Guitar Today Justin drove me down to Billy Hyde in the city so I could finally buy a guitar, which has been something I've wanted to do for a very long time. We spent about an hour in there looking at every possible guitar and amp and eventually I settled on a black Epiphone. I'm all happy inside, (2 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, August 18th, 2007
7:58 pm	I've been sick since Tuesday and alas, I've been forced to stay at home while the city parties around me. There is a long night of introspection ahead, I predict, since Justin is away and all I have to keep me company are my unraveling thoughts. I plan to catch up with writing my dreams since there's about ten that need to be recorded and some are rather long. My favourite is the one where I am married to Dita von Teese and we are debaucherously happy together. I then bump into Marilyn Manson, afraid that he will berate me for running off with his ex, but instead he smiles and gives me a hug and a kiss, leaving his dark lipstick on my cheek, and wishes me luck with my future endeavours. Then I fake an epileptic fit in the middle of a large crowd and laugh as they rush to assist me. I had another short dream last night where a guy came up to me and asked me if I liked Bowie's Ziggy Stardust, and I say I do, and then he asked me to say the full name of the album to prove my devotion, and I did, and he patted me on the shoulder and said, You're okay kid. After the dreams are done, I may play some guitar and try and get those damned tricky chords perfected, although ... I'll proably just end up listening to music and watching movies. I had a spree at JB's on Wednesday, obtaining: CDS Devildriver - The Last Kind Words The White Stripes - Icky Thunp Marilyn Manson - Eat Me, Drink Me The Rolling Stones - Aftermath DVDS A History Of Violence Perfume: Story Of A Murderer Stay The Brood 2001: A Space Oddysey Full Metal Jacket Lost: S1 Twin Peaks: S1 Jackass Box Set I'll try not to smoke too much. Current Music: The White Stripes - Conquest (Comment on this)
Sunday, August 12th, 2007
10:44 pm	Birthdays Last night was one of the best from recent memory. To describe everything would take me at least an hour to type due to inadequate typing skills, so I've decided to resort to only relating the key highlights. -John picked me up and drove me to a vegetarian restauant that I can't remember the name of for Brett's 23rd. Chatted with lots of girls that I may or may not have met on previous occasions about random topics, one being marijuana induced hallucinations. -Went outside to have a cigarette and was accosted by a group of sleepy-eyed teenagers. They asked for a cigarette and I didn't know if they deserved one or not. A boy said he would play me a song for one and he did, and I gave them two dollars and three cigarettes and they all hugged and kissed me and said what a nice guy I was. I felt happy afterwards. -After dinner we went to a karaoke bar and hired a room for an hour. There were about twenty of us crammed in, and there was general disorder while we picked songs and sang badly. There wasn't a great selection and I had to resort to singing Tainted Love by Soft Cell, Beautiful Day by U2 and This Ain't A Scene by Fallout Boy. No Iggy or Ramones: devastating. -Farewelled that group of friends, walked to a hotel that a friend had messaged me from and that he was staying at, met them outside and followed them up to their room. One guy sat comatose in the corner of the room watching Crocodile Dundee 3. Traded cigarettes for a tall glass of CC and Coke. Yelled at people at the Crown and Anchor from the balcony. I followed another guy into the hotel hallway and we sprayed powder from a fire extinguisher all over the floor and promptly left. Walked to the London Tavern and skipped the line of about a hundred people since one of the group knew a guy that knew the manager. Drank, danced, practised fly-kicks. -Left half an hour later and met Justin at the Crazy Horse, then walked to the Colonel Light Hotel where one of his best mates was celebrating his 21st. Gave strange looks to strangers and watched their reactions. -Farewelled the birthday boy, walked with Justin to Shotz. Bumped into a random guy who then gave me two hugs; it was also his 21st birthday that night. Drank out in the beer garden, found people we knew and chatted with them, made conversation with more strangers. Danced for a while, sung along to the songs in loud raucous voices. Met a girl while attempting to buy cigarettes from the vending machine named Angelica. Talked and danced with her and her silent fun-destroying narcissistic friends until she gave me her number and left. Talked and danced with more strangers, scared or annoyed most of them. An androgynous lesbian told me to stop dancing with her friends and gave me a dirty look. Talked with a girl about eighties punk rock; her favourite band were The Casualties. When I asked her if she liked the Dead Kennedys she said, "Aren't they from the seventies?" We eventually found a mutual appreciation of Black Flag and all things Rollins. People started leaving and a group of skinheads arrived, made friends and drank and jumped around the stage with them. Offended a bartender by asking him if he'd been drinking on the job, and then he told me it was his birthday that night. The bar closed and Justin and I caught a cab home. -Drank beers while playing Guitar Hero. Hugged, punched and sat on Justin as he tried to sleep on the couch. Realised it was seven AM and the sun was up and retired to my bedroom. (Comment on this)
Saturday, July 28th, 2007
4:01 am	Holy Days I've come home from a night on the town, and thought, this whole living business isn't so bad. One of Dave's friends, who I've met three or four times, named Beege, or something to that equivalent, was celebrating his twenty-first at the Crown and Anchor. I was told that they would be there about nine-thirtyish so arrived at the predetermined time, to find that they weren't there. I saw some of their other friends watching the bands play (The Barren did an awesome cover of War Pigs by Black Sabbath) and talked and made jokes with them for a while, which was fun. Then I got bored and walked upstairs and politely asked for a pen and paper so I could write down a story. They didn't have any paper, but instead had a blank receipt roll that they gave me a portion of, about fifty centimetres by five centimetres in length. The bartender looked at me warily and offered me a pencil instead of a pen, suggesting that perhaps I wasn't adequately skilled to use a pen. I then wrote down a dream I'd had the night before about managing an illegal animal farm owned by my grandparents containing rare and endangered animals while they were both away in hospital with their different afflictions. I finished the story in about forty-five minutes and went back downstairs and saw other friends I knew. I talked with a girl I used to work with, and then mentioned the dream story and she soon left after muttering that I was strange. I talked with another guy about the art of wearing finger-nail polish; he'd chosen a metallic blue for the night. Finally Dave and Johnno arrived with their whole crew, all of them on an assortment of drugs, which was interesting. Dave was on acid and getting paranoid and I tried to calm him down and it sort of worked. I chatted about music and film with everyone; none of them had heard any Bowie, and I suggested songs they should listen to, mostly the greats, Space Oddity, Ashes to Ashes, Suffragette City, Starman etc. I rolled cigarettes for one of them since he'd lost the ability to perform the action and he was most grateful. I don't know what else to say. It was a fun chilled night full of love and conversation. And alcohol and drugs. Current Music: Marilyn Manson - Heart-Shaped Glasses (3 Comments |Comment on this)
Saturday, July 14th, 2007
8:09 pm	Some recent developments have caused me to become a little excitable over the last few days. It didn't start so well. On Friday I was made aware that my shifts for the next few months would be cut from 30-35 hours a week to 15-20, along with many other part-time employees, due to car-park construction outside the store resulting in a predicted loss in sales for the store. I was distraught, and lapsed into instant depression. The boss then calls me up to his office, about an hour later, to suggest, "with extreme prejudice," that I take a fortnight of holidays. I was still depressed for the remainder of the day, but awoke today thinking, two more shifts until holidays, and I felt rather jubilant. I haven't taken any holidays since I've started working at the establishment - it's been a year and a half (not taking into account the month I took off when I was recovering from my abdominal explosion, which was the opposite of a holiday). Also I received my group certificate today, and found that I'd been taxed $6959 during the year. Even if I get only half of that back with my tax return, I'm finally going to be able to get my life together. I'll be able to pay off all my bills and return money to everyone I've borrowed from in times of desperation, I'll be able to buy a new phone a luxury (some would say neccesity ...) that I've had to do without for the last six months. I'll be able to buy myself some glasses, so I can actually see. I can also use this time ahead of me to type my story and start my new one. And, most importantly, I can party hard without consequence. So I'm feeling pretty good inside. (Comment on this)
Saturday, June 30th, 2007
9:00 pm	Summary Of Three Recent Dreams 1) Sliced an old friends head open with a saw in a New York mall, after escaping from a single mother with incestuous siblings in LA. I lost a shoe. 2)Had a conversation with a girl during dusk when she removed her head and inserted her mobile phone into the top of the exposed neck (humanoid creatures ran around in the background during this process.) Ran to a nearby bar, where there was a morbidly obese stripper dancing while naked pre-pubescent boys chased me around with tiny erections. 3)Married to a woman with Down's Syndrome who constantly asks me why I don't love her anymore. We watch a documentary and she communicates with another man with the same condition through the television. He reaches his hand through the screen and my wife tears off the sleeve of his shirt and throws it into the corner of the room. She becomes angry with me, morphs into a black cat and scratches and bites my face and chest. (Comment on this)
Sunday, June 17th, 2007
1:48 am	Dark Times In The Castle Of Obseletion Is that a good title for a story? I think it's okay ... kinda indulgent and pretentious but otherwise okay. Getting a plot together in my head for a new story, since I finally finished the one I've been working on for the last year or so. I don't know whether I'll be ever able to write a novel with a limited amount of extracurricular time.... Been editing it over the last few days. I forgot Dead Ringers was such an odd movie. The specialized gyno apparatus make me laugh. Has anyone seen it? (Comment on this)
Wednesday, May 2nd, 2007
4:15 pm	The Yabbee Incident Something interesting enough to post about happened to me this morning as I was walking to work. I'd been awake for barely half an hour and was predictably late and walking quickly and smoking simultaneously, when I saw a small yabbee walking along the footpath besides me. I immediately stopped, time be damned, for this is not an everyday occurence. The yabbee saw that I had stopped and raised it's claws at me in what I assumed was meant to be a menacing pose, and we looked at each for about a minute. During this time I thought to myself, you've really done it now, you've moved from eccentricity to full-blown psychosis, and pondered other existential matters concerning this incident. I looked up and saw an elderly lady I'd just passed at a bus-stop staring at me with a worried look on her face. Then I thought, if I can pick it up and hold it, then it's real, and my sanity no longer needs to be questioned. So I did, and it tried to grab hold of my fingers valiantly in vain, and I placed it back on the ground, and felt kinda sorry for the small creature as it would surely die a slow hideous death when the sun eventually came from behind the clouds and beamed it's rays of doom. During the remainder of my walk I reminisced about my childhood, when my sister and I would catch yabbee's with our cousins and hypnotize them by stroking their belly; unfortunately our knowledge of inducing trances didn't extend to actually breaking them, so I guess those yabbee's ended up dying in that catatonic state. I told my colleagues everything I've written upon arriving at work, and they all laughed. Current Music: Avenged Sevenfold - Beast and The Harlot (Comment on this)
Sunday, April 1st, 2007
3:14 am	The Lock-Out Of '07 Almost a week ago exactly, at around five am Sunday morning, a taxi drove my inebriated self back to my home, and I realised I didn't have my keys with me. My housemate was working, so there was no other way for me to get in. And so I had an experience. I'm slightly less enthused with this story as I've already told about four or five people the unfortunate series of events, but it still amuses me to think about it and I thought it worthy for an LJ update. Emily, John and I went into the city to catch up over some drinks Saturday night, and we had a nice conversation about friends and the movie Shortbus, which led into a menagerie of sexually orientated discussions. We then went and bought doughnuts, met up with some more friends at a club to play pool, and we all parted ways around eleven thirty - twelve. I still wanted to stay out so I met up with a friend from work and his friends, and played some more pool aganst random people. I also got asked by three different people if I was selling pills, which amused me. We walked to another club, I eventually ran out of money and cigarettes and decided to go home. This brings me back to finding myself stuck outside. I stood in front of the door dumb-founded by my stupidity for about ten minutes, and then decided to walk down to Justin's work at Mitcham, even though I knew he was workng at Glenelg. I stood in front of the bakery and of course couldn't see him so I walked back home again. I was freezing cold by this stage as there was a strong wind that night and the alcohol was stating to wear off a little, a head-ache settling in, so I was increasingly desperate to get inside. I checked all of the windows and doors just in case but they were all locked, and gave the front door a half-hearted kick to see if it would pop open. When this didn't work I gave up all hope of getting inside and laid down on the porch and tried to sleep. The wind was making me shake uncontrollably preventing this much sought after slumber and I decided to make a barricade with the two bins at the front of our place laying them down in front of me. This didn't work as the wind still filtered through underneath the small gap between bin and porch, so I tried another idea. I got the biggest bin and poured out all the rubbish on the ground, laid the bin on it's side and tried to crawl inside, hoping to coccoon myself, but I was too tall and it didn't work. I put all the rubbish back in the bin and resumed my attempt at sleeping on the porch in the fetal position, and lay there shivering until the sun came up. I must have fallen asleep at some time because I was woken by an old man who I think lives next door, grabbing my shoulder and shaking it, asking me if I was all right, and I tried to explain my situation but mumbled unintelligibly instead, and he replied, "Just recovering, are you?" and I said yes and he walked off. Justin arrived home at one pm to let me in. A valuable life lesson is learned. (Comment on this)
Tuesday, March 13th, 2007
11:23 am	Brains and Other Miscellaneous Gore It's becoming increasingly difficult to record all of my dreams. I started the year with a 100 page notebook and it is now full, and I have to wait until I get paid to buy another, with four dreams that need to be written immediately. My dreams used to be an unusual image or incident, and although I haven't had as many dreams this month, they've all become rather epic, spanning long periods of times with multiple characters and locations. A dream took me an hour to write a few weeks ago. I'm not complaining - I've never had such an abundance of ideas to pick and mix from - but the time I usually spent writing my story, an hour or so every few days, is now solely devoted to recording visions. I think I'm destined to become a short story writer; either that or I'll travel the Kafka route, expansive incomplete novels that I detest, published post-humously to critical acclaim ... another dream ... I had a different weekend to the usual. I hadn't seen my sister and brother-in-law in months, and since they were on the verge of taking this absence as intentional neglect, I decided I must see them. We decided to visit our old haunt Shennanigans; before leaving we watched music video clips and discussed film and music. Andre played Muse's Knights Of Cydonia, knowing the effect it has on me, and I sang in my terrible falsetto and jumped and danced around. The song would be stuck in my head for the remainder of the evening. At around nine we arrived at the bar; the bouncer gave me grief about my broken ID; he was tall and thin with short black hair, and spoke with a lisp. We started drinking pints, and before long we were all hammered and talking shit. My sister told me at one point in earnest: "It's hard living in an Indian world", and I laughed hard. We danced and fell and talked to strangers, and a particular group of young men didn't take too kindly to this. Some pushing ensued, and the bouncers quickly surrounded us and told us to leave. We'd had enough by this time and walked to Hungry Jack's to quell our beer-induced hunger. About five minutes later the same group arrived at our destination. Our problems seemed to be of the past and the instigators from each group shook hands and drunkenly hugged in an exaggerated manly fashion. Then after all seemed well, one from their group started the verbal abuse all over again, and a melee ensued. I was quite glad to be surrounded by allies in their late twenties to early thirties, and never once feared for my safety. I was hit a few times, and I tried in vain to remember my wing chun training, but my reflexes were impaired so I had to rely on my right hand of doom, which served me well. It was all rather enjoyable, actually. We walked back to my sister's house and resumed drinking, loud and excitable from the adrenaline overdose. Video clips were again shown and we sang along to all of them, most notably to the theme from A Neverending Story. I was very hungover the next day. I started work at five AM this morning, and walking to work in my semi-conscious state brought to mind a wealth of memory. It seems that insanity consumes all that work at this hour, for my work colleagues found my sense of humour amusing. Arriving back from my break, I was asked how I'd used my time. I replied that I'd had a Red Bull, smoked two cigarettes, looked at the sky, murdered a random woman by tearing apart her throat and burning out her eyes with my lighter, and then snorted heroin while standing over her dying corpse. He laughed, and replied, "In fifteen minutes? You don't waste time!" (Comment on this)
Friday, March 2nd, 2007
8:10 pm	Infamy It has become a well-known fact at work that I excessively celebrate life to the fullest extent, perhaps celebrating a little too hard. Not that I mind too much, a little infamy can go a long way. And besides, people you wouldn't normally talk to end up gravitating towards someone who is infamous. There is a young man of 27 named Greg, who has taken to calling me Spaceman, as he saw a picture of me from the Work Xmas Party where I had a frenzied look of psychosis in my eyes, holding a cigarette in a peculiar fashion, which gave him the idea that perhaps I was a little high, and that these astral expeditions occur quite regularly. He's adamant that I am continually taking drugs, and when I deny these charges he doesn't believe me. I was going to quote Hunter S. Thompson in one of my retorts, saying, "Obviously my drug use is exaggerated, otherwise I wouldn't still be here" (not verbatim by any stretch of the imagination), but then I thought, this guy wouldn't even know who Hunter S. Thompson is. There are at least five other people at work who are worse than I am ... I guess it doesn't help my cause that I'm in a perenially eccentric mood, which actually may be my generic mood. I used the word petite in a conversation today and I received an odd look; is that word really so obscure? (1 Comment |Comment on this)