lala's hubristic broccoli.
Tuesday, March 07, 2006
i read a diary entry to my good friend, jonni poo-crotch.
14/Feb/06 another ASS - Aso Youth Hotel
not as much of an ass as nasty mincing Fukuoka man, Nigel Planet map(s) or Kumacrapo post office analhead. But that's not nice talk for Valentine's Day: love and chocolate sprinkles. Actually at this very minute we are breathing in fresh gasoline air, toasty from a chlorinated bath soak and sipping 580 yen Merlot bought from Kumamoto (a lay-man's depato). Really, its rather pleasant. Jonni Poo-crotch is drafting us a death-defying voyage up the volcano. Alright so 2.5 hrs is not death-defying (although I really hope I am not buried under hot lava). I have not written much this trip which is incredibly lazy and uninspired of me. Horror! To backtrack a little, I have since been in Osaka, Hiroshima, Fukuoka, Kumamoto and now Aso. I have contracted moving-on-itis. The desire to reject a city almost instaneously is almost overwhelming. There is a sense of freedom in not even staying in a city for a night; a freedom akin to, I suppose, a prostitute refusing to kiss on the mouth, or taxi drivers wearing gloves (well...). Osaka was as scrappy and packed with lunging humans as ever; bright pink jeans perambulated, stiff-as-socks old men in our "ghetto", Shin-Imamiya, heavily scarfed Bedouin-like workers in organic cafes, "hip-hop kids" (purple, gold, sashimi hips) tapped their feet outside clothes shops. Hotel Raizan South completed the magic triangle, even though we trampled in drunk at 4.30am, spilt cup noodle juice everywhere, got shushed by a disappointed looking lady two seconds after stepping out of lift, probably partially breaking down the wall at sub-particle level due to hysterical laughter, and general wanton sloppy behaviour that goes hand in hand with girls who've had a wee bit to drink. Nothing serious - nothing almost a whole day in bed, some cloudy apple juice and 1m cubed white bread couldn't fix.
note to j-p: so now you know! this was before i decided to write in the name of scientific research so do excuse me if its a little wayward on the facts.
Thursday, February 23, 2006
Near Death-Knell Incident for My Enduring Love of Japan (No. 1)
Location: Post-Office in Kumamoto, Kyushu.
Me: Hi, I'd like to send these postcards to Australia.
Post-Office Man: Hmmmmm..... looks at postcards ominously...picks them up, and inspects them with unnecessary zeal
Post-Office Man: These are not postcards.
Me: Huh? stunned silence, while looking at the pile of very obvious post cards
Post-Office Man: These are not postcards.
Me: But, but! They are the SAME SIZE, and have POST-CARD written on them!! getting pissed off now, I point to the word "post-card" for the man, who is not interested
Post-Office Man: You have written on more than HALF. So they are not POST-CARD.
Me: I don't understand!
Post-Office Man: tries to repeat, slowly, thinking I cannot understand the Japanese
Me: I understand what you are SAYING, but I don't understand your MEANING!!!
Post-Office Man: Humph. looks around to his fellow anal-retents for backup
Me: Look, can i SEND THEM or NOT?!
Post-Office Man: Oh, yeah, you can send them.
!!!
Location: Post-Office in Kumamoto, Kyushu.
Me: Hi, I'd like to send these postcards to Australia.
Post-Office Man: Hmmmmm..... looks at postcards ominously...picks them up, and inspects them with unnecessary zeal
Post-Office Man: These are not postcards.
Me: Huh? stunned silence, while looking at the pile of very obvious post cards
Post-Office Man: These are not postcards.
Me: But, but! They are the SAME SIZE, and have POST-CARD written on them!! getting pissed off now, I point to the word "post-card" for the man, who is not interested
Post-Office Man: You have written on more than HALF. So they are not POST-CARD.
Me: I don't understand!
Post-Office Man: tries to repeat, slowly, thinking I cannot understand the Japanese
Me: I understand what you are SAYING, but I don't understand your MEANING!!!
Post-Office Man: Humph. looks around to his fellow anal-retents for backup
Me: Look, can i SEND THEM or NOT?!
Post-Office Man: Oh, yeah, you can send them.
!!!
Tuesday, January 10, 2006
Fare Thee Well, Sweet RebbyRebby wasn't young when he first came into my life - he'd already belonged to my aunt and uncle in the 'burbs, and had also been casually used as a backup form of transport by my own family for a while before I truly gained ownership on my 21st birthday.
Even still, Rebby wasn't "Rebby" yet - while I treasured him for all his practical perks, he hadn't fully coalesced into a living, breathing, creature until the Summer of 2003, when me and two other good friends decided to take him for a jaunt up the coast, to explore rainbow beaches and roadside fruit shacks. It was during this trip that Rebby met his namesake, Rebel - a forlorn little grey horse that watched us for three hours solid at the roller-door of our borrowed tin shed. Suddenly framed alongside each other, I realised I had discovered Rebby's soul - not pretty, certainly not glamourous, but real nonetheless.
Rebby enjoyed having neighing sessions with his friends Comozzy and Merc, and never minded when I draped him in the paraphenalia of my life, such as half-broke Hawaiian men, old cassette tapes, and used Ribena poppers. Rebby never complained and never broke down. While over the years he became an increasingly mottled colour, and had to be banged in secret spots to close, he never seemed really old, or on the brink of death. I believe that he would have kept trooping for a long time yet, if an unfortunate accident hadn't befell him, and taken him from me before his time.
Strange as it may seem, Rebby was my portable family home, a family home I didn't actually have access to normally. I will always remember him for this.
Goodbye Rebby. Everything after you will always be in emulation.
Friday, September 09, 2005
friday night. lid. coffin.
here is a poem (of sorts) i wrote in highschool:
YAKKADAK! Has alcohol been my salvation? Sweet little amber froth oceans? Rotund with good times and giggles? Truly, I am a hideous (but happy) disgrace if I think its that. Blessed be this beery bliss! Nonetheless, of all the naughty nanoseconds in my lacksadaisical life, this could be the naughtiest. I'm too naughty to notice. Notice what? Nothing.
Sweet salvation!
demented. i did like to wax beer-ical didnt i. i wish i could say this love affair has cooled off, gone the way of the dodos. no, instead that has been my liver.
i am making a conscious effort to give into real inclination. so, the other day, i felt like a snail pastry. i ate one, nearly started sprouting raisins from my ears there were so damned many in it, and then swore off this craving for life (at least till i have recovered). tonight i felt a little bit like staying at home and "having a quiet one" (as they say) (and by THEY i really mean THEY...) so here i am, watching That's Dancing! with one eye and drawing mutant puppies in dresses with the other. it sounds dull, and really, it is. but its all for the cause of tracking down my INNER REASONABLE PERSON. the person who doesnt feel the need to write love poems to alcohol. god speed. to me.
current obsession: my new plastic puppy that goes 'no-no-no-no-noooo!' with it's head.
here is a poem (of sorts) i wrote in highschool:
YAKKADAK! Has alcohol been my salvation? Sweet little amber froth oceans? Rotund with good times and giggles? Truly, I am a hideous (but happy) disgrace if I think its that. Blessed be this beery bliss! Nonetheless, of all the naughty nanoseconds in my lacksadaisical life, this could be the naughtiest. I'm too naughty to notice. Notice what? Nothing.
Sweet salvation!
demented. i did like to wax beer-ical didnt i. i wish i could say this love affair has cooled off, gone the way of the dodos. no, instead that has been my liver.
i am making a conscious effort to give into real inclination. so, the other day, i felt like a snail pastry. i ate one, nearly started sprouting raisins from my ears there were so damned many in it, and then swore off this craving for life (at least till i have recovered). tonight i felt a little bit like staying at home and "having a quiet one" (as they say) (and by THEY i really mean THEY...) so here i am, watching That's Dancing! with one eye and drawing mutant puppies in dresses with the other. it sounds dull, and really, it is. but its all for the cause of tracking down my INNER REASONABLE PERSON. the person who doesnt feel the need to write love poems to alcohol. god speed. to me.
current obsession: my new plastic puppy that goes 'no-no-no-no-noooo!' with it's head.
Thursday, September 01, 2005
“Let’s give ourselves a boost by having eels for lunch”There is drastic action on the street, local neighbourhood punks break their parents’ drumkits while an elderly Greek lady eats her first boiled egg of Spring. I’ve spent all day inside writing, and so feel a little batty. On the upside, I now know a lot about the up-and-coming INDIE bands of Sydney (thankyou FBI), as well as the meaning for the word pusillanimous (lacking strength of mind or courage; faint-hearted; cowardly).
The other day I was boasting to my friend Elmos Ninos that at any one time I would be able to name at least one meal you could buy for $3 or under in the immediate vincinity. I am obsessed with bargains. Recently, I even went so far as to use a Shop-A-Docket, something I had always thought was the complete rock-bottom of penny pinching (after many years of watching my grandfather save receipts that gave him a 50c discount off the MAMMOTHLY EXPENSIVE $1.10 price for a newspaper).
To make true on my claim, I have decided to start compiling a list of these $3 and under Wonder Meals. Keep in mind that my idea of a ‘meal’ might fall seriously short of the national average. Also keep in mind that it is sometimes possible to find shrapnel in the change slot of public phones, thus taking your kitty up to a staggering $3.20 or even $3.50.
So, present location: Bourke St, Surry Hills. Not a place one would think teeming with cheap deals. However, I am not one to be easily defeated. And it is my belief that cheap meals are the true life-blood of the city – thus must, by that same analogy, flow along all its arteries. Annnnyway.
3 x pastizzis from the Maltese Café, Crown St = $2.70
2 x spring rolls from Prasits Thai Restaurant, Crown St = $3.00
1 x murky meat pie + 1 x cookie/brownie, from the bakery cnr. Crown & Cleveland = $2.70
1 x ultra delicious chocolate croissant (best in Sydney, I kid you not) from Bourke St Bakery, Bourke St = $2.50
1 x giant slab of Turkish bread, Ericyes Restaurant, Cleveland St = $2.00
3 x pieces salmon sashimi, Sushi Train, Oxford St = $2.50
Of course, some of these fall below the $3 mark, and could therefore be supplemented with a piece of fruit, can of tuna or something else cheap to bulk up the meal. It goes without saying that if you are prepared to sit around at home all day, and buy things from the supermarket, then you could have a meal for, like, $1. Sweeeeet.
current obsession: glass mugs
Tuesday, August 16, 2005
“labyrinths in whack”
Well it’s a dark day indeed, my stomach fat is careening out into time & space with not a thought for my own feelings, while the great blob of fat that is the Australian voting public (oh, the ones that watch Big Brother, that is) puke all over themselves in a big show of incestous in-boganhood. That’s right, the scheissenkopf Logan twins are declared the winner(s) of BB05, meantimes many honest hearts break and riots are started. The least of which is in your anus. A song has been created, a street anthem if you will, that attests to this horrific turn of affairs that I will dub “Whack Day ‘05”. Australia, you had a chance to prove yourself human, and you BLEW IT.
It heartens me however that Lefty Tim is destined for a career in guru-hood (check out some of his words of wisdom here), and that he is slowly but surely becoming the cosmic centre of the universe. I’m sure God will appreciate the irony of such a spiritual flower blossoming on the arid, snot-laden, spazzy front teeth littered, stupid hair and lack of ‘intellect’ soil that is Australia. God will recognise, and he will reward.
So, PREDICTION: 2005-2006. Lefty Tim starts a cult and is instantly joined by flocks of eager, panting, latte-sipping ladeez. Their chief purpose in life is to follow the precepts initially laid down by Tim’s papa, the main of which is: when in doubt, wear aluminium. Long-time loyal band “The Riot in Your Anus” create the soundtracks for this hippy commune (which is a space in your heart, rather than in reality), projecting their whimsical, message-laden ditties into the minds of followers and dissenters alike by sonic radar and/or pigeon carrier (if you live behind a tower).
The world becomes a happy place for the believers, while everyone else is forced to live on a diet of pimple jam and snot smoothies.
Well it’s a dark day indeed, my stomach fat is careening out into time & space with not a thought for my own feelings, while the great blob of fat that is the Australian voting public (oh, the ones that watch Big Brother, that is) puke all over themselves in a big show of incestous in-boganhood. That’s right, the scheissenkopf Logan twins are declared the winner(s) of BB05, meantimes many honest hearts break and riots are started. The least of which is in your anus. A song has been created, a street anthem if you will, that attests to this horrific turn of affairs that I will dub “Whack Day ‘05”. Australia, you had a chance to prove yourself human, and you BLEW IT.
It heartens me however that Lefty Tim is destined for a career in guru-hood (check out some of his words of wisdom here), and that he is slowly but surely becoming the cosmic centre of the universe. I’m sure God will appreciate the irony of such a spiritual flower blossoming on the arid, snot-laden, spazzy front teeth littered, stupid hair and lack of ‘intellect’ soil that is Australia. God will recognise, and he will reward.
So, PREDICTION: 2005-2006. Lefty Tim starts a cult and is instantly joined by flocks of eager, panting, latte-sipping ladeez. Their chief purpose in life is to follow the precepts initially laid down by Tim’s papa, the main of which is: when in doubt, wear aluminium. Long-time loyal band “The Riot in Your Anus” create the soundtracks for this hippy commune (which is a space in your heart, rather than in reality), projecting their whimsical, message-laden ditties into the minds of followers and dissenters alike by sonic radar and/or pigeon carrier (if you live behind a tower).
The world becomes a happy place for the believers, while everyone else is forced to live on a diet of pimple jam and snot smoothies.
Tuesday, August 09, 2005
"add Indie-cred knob" ( the REVERB)
this is a drawing of kate moss i did when i was in QLD. its nice to know my pen can still democratically disfigure even the prettiest of supermodels. mu-ha-ha.
today i went to my culture and sound class, and my tutor, the venerable martin harrison (he of falling off glasses and long, hard "a"s) said sound could be defined in the following way:
"atomic events located in multi-dimensional space"
he was borrowing someone elses quote. we all had fun imagining blinding white explosions of sound and reverberation. then, my brain wandered to the (necessary) contingent fall-out, the dusty white murder of small plants, the three-eyed mutants. Ahh, music, we sighed. Who will be the surviving cockroaches of todays music apocalypse. i dont like britney's chances anymore....maybe fiddy cent, and michael buble
on an unrelated point, i finally saw BATTLE ROYALE for the first time tonight. truly frightening. who brewed japanese people to be so weird? maybe they forgot to put the barley in....or something. that sugar capsule that makes you fizz. anyway, everyone knows im a raging Japophile with nothing but love. i kind of admire them for admitting that there is nothing heroic about having to kill all your classmates in a freak gameshow on an abandoned island. yes, good on them.
and yes, kate is meant to be a goat. It is part of my continuing She-GOat series. stay tuned.
.
